


There Is A House

by seizethejongdae



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Horror, Death, Emetophobia, Explicit Language, Gore, Horror, Implied Decapitation, Kim Jongin-centric, M/M, Psychological Horror, Torture, Violence, something different but still sechen haha
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-01
Updated: 2016-12-01
Packaged: 2018-09-03 13:10:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 26,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8715265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seizethejongdae/pseuds/seizethejongdae
Summary: There is a house on the edge of the small town Jongin lives in. A house filled with such a warm ambience, soothing jazz music crackling out of a record, and two sweet people Jongin found himself caring for far too much. But if only it could stay that same perfect house after the sun fell from the sky.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted in the 2016 Round 2 of 12Horrors

There were some things that transcended all possible human comprehension.

To Jongin, his parents were two of them.

It wasn’t uncommon for them to rush off to their downtown real estate office at any moment leaving Jongin alone, for them to invite hopeful clients over to their home and ignore Jongin in favor of them, for them to constantly be thinking about and talking about nothing but their work, but…what about him? Their own son? If they cared so much about houses, why was their own house the least of their concerns?

“I’m going to stay out after school today,” Jongin tried to say at breakfast one morning to both of his parents whose eyes were glued to their bright phone screens and whose fingers were rapidly scrolling through countless emails and documents.

“I’m going to stay out after school _today_ ,” Jongin tried to say louder, though to his displeasure, both of his parents still ignored him.

“I’m failing all of my classes and I’m going to drop out of high school,” Jongin sighed as he pushed his breakfast away from him.

“You’re _what_?” His mother alarmingly said as she finally snapped her attention away from her phone to look at Jongin with such a panicked expression.

“I’m joking, just _joking_ ,” Jongin said, feeling the corner of his mouth pull up into a bitter smile. If only it wasn’t this hard to catch his parents’ attention.

“Don’t joke about that,” his father snapped before immersing himself back in his work.

“Jongin, our next door neighbor is moving out. Why don’t you wish him well before you leave for your paper route?” his mother suggested as she took a delicate bite of her waffle.

“Mr. Wu? I liked him,” Jongin said disappointedly, but nodded as he stood up, kissing his parents good-bye before he left this house for the day.

After knocking on Mr. Wu’s door several times and receiving no response, though, Jongin peeked in the windows and found the house vacant already. Too bad. Too bad…Jongin wished he teased him less about his endearingly odd paintings whenever he visited. But the thought of new neighbors moving in sometime was the least of his concerns, as Jongin had exactly one hour to finish his paper route before speeding to school.

Jongin didn’t know why he had signed up to be a paper boy, as he had to wake up even earlier to bike around town to deliver the morning paper before his classes started. But his parents had liked the idea of him making his own money instead of using theirs, as they said, so he had taken it.

The morning paper route was quiet, as most people were still blissfully sleeping. Lucky them...Whizzing by houses and offices, Jongin kept one hand on the handles while he deftly tossed the papers neatly onto the driveways and porches, and he continued to bike around town until he had just one paper left saved for Yixing.

Mr. Zhang Yixing, the local optometrist, always waited for Jongin outside his office every morning to deliver the newspapers that he read and collected methodically.

“Good morning, Jongin. Have a carrot. It’s good for your eyesight,” Yixing cheerfully said as he traded Jongin’s newspaper for a carrot.

“Thanks, Yixing. Have a nice day, alright?” Jongin said as he waved, biting into the carrot as he biked one-handedly to school.

School…was another thing Jongin could not understand.

He was smart enough to do well, but lately, his eyesight had been causing him to squint to see the smudges on the blackboard.

Honestly, it was probably time for him to make an appointment with Yixing and figure out what the fuck was wrong with his eyes. How was he supposed to stare at Chanyeol’s arms…arms that Luhan still swore were nonexistent but don’t mind him…from across the field at lunch break if his eyes were this bad?

But after struggling through one class after the other, the day continued to pass monotonously. One hour Jongin ate lunch with Luhan who chattered excitedly about his favorite football teams while Jongin sleepily nodded in reply. Another hour Jongin sat with Luhan closer to where Chanyeol was playing the other type of football…the boring, American football as Luhan said…in order to shyly peek at him admiringly. And on the hour that school ended, Luhan hugged him good-bye before heading off to football practice.

So Jongin was alone again.

He didn’t want to come home to his parents just yet…because what was the point in sitting around asking questions to selectively deaf ears and waiting for questions about his own day that he’d never receive?

So Jongin biked through the city again even though he should rightfully be tired of seeing the same sights that he saw every morning. It was no matter though, as he liked bike rides. Some people took car rides or walks to clear their minds of any confusion or overwhelming thoughts, but Jongin biked to fill his mind...to replace the deafening silence with loud, vivid thoughts. He liked whizzing past the city so fast that the same sights blurred into nothing more than wonderfully incomprehensible colors. It was funny to him that such familiar sights could be so foreign if he looked at them in different ways.

Soon Jongin finished biking around the small town three whole times. But today he still did not want to go home yet, so he impulsively took off again…rode towards the edge of town, turned at a different street than normal, headed towards the very edge of what was familiar until strange, open fields greeted him. Maybe today he would get lost. Maybe today he wanted to get lost. Maybe if he did get lost, his parents would notice and finally care enough to find him, right?

So he wandered upon a little dirt-trodden path he had never ventured on before and got off his bike. Jongin didn’t know what lay ahead as he continued walking on the path, but it was too late to go home now, as he was interested in making it to the end of the road to see what was there even if it would take him days.

He never even saw a glimpse of the end though, as after he continued walking for a little while longer, he stumbled upon a house.

At a first glance, the house looked normal, so Jongin didn’t hesitate as he strayed off the path to eagerly explore this wild territory he hadn’t explored before. Wispy smoke lazily billowed out of the chimney, and a small field of blue flowers grew around the house, waving slowly as the wind blew through them.

But maybe it was Jongin’s bad eyesight or the lack of care he had in the moment because he did not notice the little cracks in the side of the age-weathered house, the little swarm of black bugs crawling among the blue flowers like dark stains, the feeling that something…perhaps was not quite all right.

After all, what good could an abandoned house in the middle of nowhere far from the city bring?

But it was too late.

Jongin’s curiosity was already piqued, so he placed his bike by the doorsteps and walked up the stairs towards the front door.

Just before he was about to knock, he realized the house was probably abandoned anyways since it looked like no one lived there. So it wouldn’t hurt to look around, right? Take a quick look around, right?

Jongin had always been so curious.

Too curious.

But the consequences of his curiosity were pushed to the back of his mind, as when he opened the front door, he was assaulted with so many colors, sounds, smells that overwhelmed his senses.

The sound of soothing, jazzy music echoed out of a slowly crackling record in the corner, the lazy croon of the brass instruments calming down Jongin’s racing heart and welcoming him into the house. Taking another step inside, Jongin observed the living room and its warm pastel colors, the soft shade of deep yellow blending beautifully into the background as the light blue couches contrasted with the walls wonderfully. And the smell of something baking…that smelled so sweet drifted through the air, and suddenly Jongin felt so sleepy…so content…

But then he remembered that this was supposed to be a fucking abandoned house.

Oh fuck.

Who lived here then?

Jongin most definitely realized he had literally broken in and entered a stranger’s house too late, as before he could quickly escape from being caught and denounced as a delinquent robber, a musical voice called out.

“Sehun? Is that you?” the voice echoed from the right side of the house.

“What?” another voice called back before footsteps started getting louder and louder as someone walked down the carved, wooden stairs to the left of the house.

Jongin froze because _fuck_ he chose today of all days to wear a bright shirt…and everyone knew it was impossible to hide in pastel colors while wearing a shirt that was fucking brighter than the sun, _fuck_.

But the footsteps stopped, and Jongin hoped that whoever lived in this house was fucking blind or something because he was _screwed_.

“Hello. Who are you?” another voice called out, and Jongin shakily turned to his left to face its owner.

Jongin should have felt immediately intimidated by anyone whose house he just broke into, but he could not because even though the man he faced was quite tall, he looked so soft…harmless…wearing a dreamy, distant look that the clear glasses he wore emphasized and wearing a blue, long-sleeved shirt that looked just so aesthetically perfect when he stood in front of the dusty pink walls of the hallway. Almost too perfect.

The man walked closer to Jongin before he stopped right in front of him.

“What’s your name?” the man asked, waiting expectantly for an answer.

Jongin found all the things he could say in the moment stuck in his throat, so the man gently pulled him away from the living room, passing under the chandelier that hung from the ceiling and emitted sparkling light.

The man who was probably Sehun lead Jongin into the kitchen where someone was busy cutting up fruit with his back turned to them, a slightly oversized blue turtleneck sweater with long yellow sleeves peeking out of the apron he wore.

“Jongdae,” Sehun called beside Jongin, causing the man to turn with a fond smile before looking at Jongin curiously. Almost cautiously.

“They wouldn’t send two at the same time, right? We’ve already got one out back somewhere,” Jongdae said, clenching the knife he held in his grasp tighter.

Jongin eyed the knife frightenedly before finally bursting out with all the things he wanted to say.

“Oh my _God_ I’m so, so, so sorry please don’t stab me…I’m really sorry I got lost and found your house and I really thought this house was abandoned so I wanted to take a look out of curiosity…Please don’t kill me!” Jongin cried out, much to Jongdae’s and Sehun’s amusement.

“Kill you?” Jongdae laughed, and even though they were talking about such a dark matter, Jongin let his guard down and relaxed because Jongdae’s laughter sounded so…comforting.

“What if you kill us first?” Sehun asked.

“What?” Jongin incredulously asked, “How could I if you’re the one with the knife?”

“He’s cute, Sehun,” Jongdae smiled as he continued looking at Jongin.

“But when the sun comes down –” Sehun tried to add before the oven alarm screeched and interrupted them.

“Oh! My pies!” Jongdae exclaimed before rushing to turn off the oven, “Sehun, please take our guest to the living room. I’ll be out soon.”

And so Jongin left the cozy ambience of the kitchen as Sehun guided him back to the living room. Sunlight gently streamed through the windows, and Jongin tried his best to relax as he sat on the blue couch.

Sehun took a seat across from Jongin and continued to stare intensely at him, and Jongin didn’t really feel like dying today in the house of complete strangers…but he supposed it was his own fault he didn’t know how to defend himself in dire situations like this. Maybe he should have joined Luhan when he took those self-defense classes years ago instead of laughing at him for being trapped for hours during the weekend in those classes.

So instead, Jongin opened his mouth and wasted time where he could have been murdered by making small talk in order to distract Sehun.

“That’s a nice vase,” Jongin said, pointing to a porcelain vase with gold and blue stripes on it.

“Thanks,” Sehun nodded, looking at Jongin curiously…almost as if trying to recall something.

Silence.

Alright.

“That’s a nice chandelier,” Jongin tried again, pointing upwards to the hanging ball of entwined wire and glowing lights.

“Thanks,” Sehun nodded again, continuing to gaze curiously at Jongin.

Silence.

Fuck.

What would it take to make Sehun say more than a word?

“That’s a nice record player. Vintage?” Jongin said, pointing to the record player in the corner of the room that continually played the same crooning French jazz.

“Thanks,” Sehun nodded, ignoring Jongin’s question. A wry smile began appearing on his face, and Jongin was a bit unsettled by Sehun’s expression…what an oddly fond, sad smile it was.

Jongin was running out of things to point out to kill time because Jongdae and Sehun seemed to favor minimalistic furnishings, but thankfully…Sehun finally spoke.

“How old are you?” Sehun asked.

“I just turned eighteen,” Jongin said, leaping at the chance to divert the attention away from the fact that he was still in some stranger’s house he broke into. He hoped that if these two people did not kill him, then maybe they’d let him go without calling the police.

“Thanks,” Sehun said again, raising an eyebrow.

Finally, Jongdae reappeared with a plate of freshly cut fruit and without his long knife, much to Jongin’s relief.

“I’d give you some pie, but all of them are still cooling,” Jongdae said as he pushed the plate of fruit towards Jongin before taking his place next to Sehun and pressing their shoulders together. Jongin watched Sehun take a bite of the peach slice he picked up first before cautiously biting into one, too. It wasn’t like they would poison him, right?

“Now. Who are you? What’s your name?” Jongdae asked.

“I’m Jongin…I was just taking a walk from the city, and I got lost…until I saw your house. And I thought no one lived here, so I was just curious,” Jongin said, trying to make himself look as innocent as possible even though he literally trespassed into a house.

“Do you think he’s human? He sounds human,” Jongdae whispered loudly to Sehun.

“What else would I be? Are you not?” Jongin protested.

“Interesting…Of course we are,” Sehun said, continuing to gaze unsettlingly at Jongin.

_What the fuck_ …Jongin thought to himself as he reached for another slice of yellow peaches.

“Jongdae, he’s eighteen. Just like—” Sehun began to say.

“Shh…Let me look,” Jongdae shushed Sehun, pressing a finger over his mouth as he looked at Jongin, his expression softening considerably.

“Do you think,” Sehun said, his voice muffled behind Jongdae’s fingers.

“Jongin, tell us…What are you studying in school? Who are your parents?” Jongdae asked, ignoring Sehun’s question. But after Jongin seemed reluctant to answer, Jongdae gently spoke again.

“It’s alright, Jongin. We won’t call the police…or kill you, if that’s what you think,” Jongdae smiled, “Now go on…tell us about yourself. It’s rare for us to have guests as nice as you.”

Jongin didn’t know what type of guests Jongdae and Sehun were used to if he could be considered _nice_ after trespassing without permission, but…alright.

And every single cell in his body was screaming at him to get out….get out before it was too late…where did all his stranger danger classes from preschool go now? But there was something so naturally soothing and familiar about Jongdae and Sehun, so Jongin found himself sinking deeper into the blue couch, comfortably sitting as he began to talk.

“It’s my last year in high school, so I’m just doing all those boring upper level classes to get college credit,” Jongin wrinkled his nose unpleasantly at the memory of all the classes he had struggled so hard to stay awake in, “And my parents? Well…I’d rather not talk about them right now.”

“Oh, why?” Jongdae asked, “What are their names?”

“That’s not important. I’m a little mad at them right now,” Jongin said, unsure of why he was revealing so much of his feelings to these two people.

“That’s irrelevant…sorry Jongdae asked that,” Sehun waved aside Jongdae who was opening his mouth to ask Jongin more questions. The two of them bickered gently before it was Sehun’s turn to press his fingers across Jongdae’s mouth to shush him before continuing to ask other questions. What was his favorite color? What did he like doing? What did he want to do when he was older?

And so Jongin gave in completely…letting go of any previous caution as he answered their questions honestly and marveling in how sweet and inviting Sehun and Jongdae seemed.

Jongin found himself laughing as Sehun told a joke with a completely straight face, smiling as Jongdae told them any story that came to his mind in the moment…And suddenly he didn’t want to go home…he just wanted to stay here and stay with these people even though he just met them because unlike his parents, these people asked him about his day, asked how he was doing, asked about him in general.

He was having such a good time, lost in the warm ambience and the comforting setting that Jongdae’s and Sehun’s laughter created before a shadow abruptly appeared at the window, causing Jongin to let out a surprised yell as he almost fell from his seat, completely startled by the eerie sight as he looked up.

It was just a man…a man dressed in black standing at the window as he glowered at Jongin.

“What an awful guest…He scared the baby,” Jongdae huffed before he stood up from his seat to quickly close the curtains.

“Jongdae, he should go. It’s almost sundown anyways,” Sehun said, glancing at the clock that hung from the wall.

“What a shame…We were having such a good time. It’s so rare for us to have polite guests,” Jongdae sighed.

“I can come back tomorrow…if you want?” Jongin found himself answering. And suddenly he didn’t know what became of him. Look at him now. Look at him offering to revisit a house he just stumbled upon and to revisit strangers he only met today.

But honestly, there was nothing strange about Jongdae and Sehun, Jongin wistfully thought. They appeared so friendly…so inviting…and asked him about himself so genuinely in ways his parents lately didn’t bother to ask.

They looked like home.

“You’d do that?” Jongdae surprisingly asked, grasping Sehun’s knee as he looked at Sehun excitedly.

“We’d love the company,” Sehun said, another small smile spreading across his lips, “But you can’t stay after sundown, too. We’re busy then…tending to our guests.”

“Like the one outside?” Jongin said, unpleasantly remembering the cruel way the man had stared at him.

“Just like the one outside,” Jongdae nodded.

“Then I should go now…if you’re busy looking after your guest. I’m sorry he looks like a dick,” Jongin winced.

“We’re sorry, too,” Sehun said.

“Wait! Let me bring you a slice of pie to take home first!” Jongdae said, running to the kitchen to quickly cut some pie before placing it in a neat plastic-wrapped plate for Jongin. Jongin enthusiastically thanked him as he placed it carefully on the top of his books in his backpack. It smelled wonderful…smelled like the rest of this house…so innocently sweet and cozily comforting.

And as Jongin walked outside and picked up his bike, Jongdae and Sehun watched from the very edge of their door, never taking a step outside as they waved to Jongin.

Jongin was too happy to notice, and he had already biked far enough, so he did not hear sounds starkly different to the previous laughter and the lazy jazz echoing out of the house after the sun fell.

The bike ride home should have been terrifying, as Jongin didn’t know if any wild animals or wild people would have attacked him at this time of the evening, but he was too wistfully content to care anymore.

“Dinner will be in an hour,” his mother called out to Jongin when he finally reached his own home.

“Excellent. How was your day,” he said, cheerfully kissing her cheek in greeting.

“Good. I hope you finished your homework,” she said before returning to her work.

“I will,” Jongin hummed, not at all minding that his mother didn’t bother asking him about himself back. After all, Jongdae and Sehun already did.

Rushing upstairs, Jongin didn’t care that it was supposed to be dinnertime soon because he wanted to taste Jongdae’s pie. He was sure the flaky crust would melt in his mouth wonderfully, the cinnamon glazed filling would tease his tongue delightfully, and the bits of powdered sugar dusted on top would have him contentedly smiling for days. At the house, when it first came out of the oven from the peeks Jongin stole of it, the pie looked absolutely perfect, tantalizing, and…

Gone?

What?

Jongin unzipped his backpack and stared, stunned at the pie missing from his bag. Dumping out his books, Jongin looked everywhere…wondering how he could have lost such a big slice of pie.

How could this be?

Oh well. He could just eat it tomorrow when he came back to visit.

 

ϟ

 

There were many things Jongin didn’t understand, and honestly how boring school could possibly be sometimes was one of them.

But between trying to stay awake and trying to learn something, it was not all that bad. Jongin enjoyed passing notes to Luhan, reveling in that triumphant feeling he felt when he answered a question right in front of the class, and discreetly trying his best to not be obvious as he stared at Chanyeol from the back of the classroom.

Usually he would spend longer moments staring, but after Chanyeol had visited Jongin’s desk today with a crooked smile asking Jongin, whose cheeks had turned a violent shade of red, if he could see his homework to copy, Jongin did not pay him any more attention because his mind was wandering…traveling all the way back to that house…the warmth of the serene colors…the lull of the jazz that crept out of the record…the enticing smells of cinnamon and baking pastries…

And so despite Luhan’s attempts to poke him to make him stay awake, Jongin was falling…falling…falling…asleep…dreaming of that house, those warm smiles, that sparkling laughter. Suddenly he was dreaming of baking pies with Jongdae and Sehun. And talking with them as he chopped up the needed fruit with that sharp knife…How fun…how sweet…

Until a black shadow burst through the window and leapt at him with a heart-stopping shriek, causing Jongin to wake up with a start.

“Jongin, if you’re going to sleep in class, then at least make it subtle,” his teacher chided, causing Chanyeol to laugh obnoxiously in front of him. Luhan looked concernedly at him and leaned across his desk to place a comforting hand over Jongin’s shoulder as Jongin fought to calm his racing heartbeat.

He thought nothing more of his nightmare for the rest of the day, and after class, Jongin quickly said good-bye to a slightly disappointed Luhan, promising he’d buy him lunch tomorrow since he was leaving him early today.

And that day, Jongin took all the wrong turns that lead to the right house with the blue flowers outside, rushing to get there as soon as he could before the sun was down in order to have as much time with Jongdae and Sehun as possible.

And that day, before Jongin could even knock, Sehun excitedly opened the door to welcome him.

“I was watching you come from the window,” Sehun said, placing a hand on Jongin’s shoulder to squeeze it welcomingly.

“How are you today?” Jongin smiled, immediately hearing the sounds of that familiar jazz music echoing from inside the house.

“Never better. It’s so good to see you again,” Sehun said, sounding as if it had been years since he last saw Jongin even though it had only been a day...it had only been a day since Jongin met him.

Jongin was about to ask Sehun where Jongdae was as they walked past the hallway and into the living room, but the words died in his throat as a menacing looking woman shrouded in black sat on the couch silently, glaring at Sehun as she knit something misshapen from a lumpy ball of yarn.

“Oh. You have another guest? I don’t mean to intrude,” Jongin said in a quieter voice.

“Yes, but don’t worry. You’re here now, so we’ll take good care of our guest later. Don’t mind her,” Sehun smiled before leading him into the kitchen.

If the warm heat of the oven and the sweet smells that wafted around the kitchen did not overwhelm Jongin enough already, there Jongdae was…excitedly throwing down his knife to hug him enthusiastically. And Jongin simply laughed, melting into Jongdae’s embrace. Surely such a sweet person like Jongdae was too good to be real.

“You came back! I’m so glad you’re back,” Jongdae said, glancing at Jongin up and down again and again and again as if he couldn’t believe Jongin himself was real.

“What pies are you making today? Apple?” Jongin asked, glancing over Jongdae’s shoulders at the basket of freshly washed, perfectly red apples.

“Yes! Today it’s apple! Do you want to help?” Jongdae asked, grasping Jongin’s hand to lead him to the sink to gently wash his hands for him with warm water and soap before Jongin could answer.

Soon, Jongin helped to cut up the bright red apples while Jongdae supervised and taught him the proper techniques needed to make the most delicious pie. Sehun watched fondly as he leaned on the counter, wistfully admitting it was a shame he burned everything he touched so he could not help.

“Sehun is useless in the kitchen. He accidentally cuts himself with the knife, accidentally burns the food…but it’s okay. I still love him,” Jongdae shook his head, dropping his knife to place floury hands on Sehun’s cheeks before pressing a quick kiss to Sehun’s lips.

“How long have you been married?” Jongin asked, noticing the splendid way their rings dazzlingly glinted underneath the sunlight that streamed in from the kitchen window.

“A while. Not long enough,” Sehun said as he looked at Jongdae so fondly that Jongin’s own heart felt like it was about to burst from all the love in this room, this kitchen, this house.

“How long will you stay with us, Jongin?” Jongdae asked hopefully as he squeezed Sehun’s hand.

“A while. Not long enough,” Jongin repeated, regretting that Jongdae and Sehun were busy after the sun disappeared from the sky. But perhaps it was good that there was a time meant for him to go, as if they were free during the night as well, Jongin didn’t know when he’d ever leave.

And so Jongin felt the hours blaze by in moments spent laughing and living and loving. Warm colors dotted his vision, even warmer smells playfully lured in his senses, and the warmest smiles caused Jongin to feel nothing but absolute contentment. And this time, Jongin was able to eat Jongdae’s apple pies even though they had not cooled properly. Jongin didn’t mind that his tongue burned when he too impatiently took another bite of the hot pastry, as the sweet glaze, the soft crunch of the apples, and the curiously expectant looks Jongdae gave him as he watched Jongin take his first bite made up for it.

“It’s so good, Jongdae,” Jongin said delightedly, “Won’t you guys eat, too?”

“Well, you helped, Jongin. And of course,” Jongdae said, beaming as he cut Sehun a slice, “Who doesn’t like pie?”

“Me,” thundered a menacing voice from the living room, reminding Jongin that not everything could be perfect, not everything could last forever, not everything could be understood.

“Oh. It’s almost sundown. Sorry, Jongin. You should go,” Sehun regretfully said as Jongdae’s smile slipped from his face as he looked at the sun’s fading rays. Already? The sun was setting already?

“I’ll come back tomorrow,” Jongin nodded, and he was glad at the way Jongdae smiled again at his words.

“Come, let us walk you out,” Jongdae said, looping an arm around Jongin’s own arm as he guided him out of the kitchen.

When they reached the living room, the old woman rigidly sat there, and while whatever she knit was put away, she still held out her pointed, silver knitting needles that glinted dangerously in the shadows of the light.

“Well. Have fun with your guest,” Jongin said, feeling quite unsettled at the sight of the old woman’s leering.

“We will,” Jongdae and Sehun assured together.

They stood watching Jongin from the same exact place from the door, never stepping even the slightest bit over the edge of their doorway. Jongin looked back and saw Jongdae and Sehun still staring, but when they noticed him, they waved good-bye again.

Jongin would come back again tomorrow.

The old woman, however, would not.

 

ϟ

 

The next day was the same. Jongin woke up early, ate breakfast while his parents were already working at the dining table, and after he left to work his morning paper route, he met Yixing who traded him a carrot for the daily newspaper.

So naturally, school was the same. Jongin had trouble reading off of the board as the words looked blurry from his seat in the back. Chanyeol would come to sweet-talk him into copying off his homework, and Jongin would give it to him even though Luhan was shaking his head beside him. And after the afternoon haze sank in, there he was...falling asleep.

And his dream was the same. There Jongin was…walking into the house where the record was playing, where Jongdae and Sehun welcomed him warmly with open arms, where the three of them spent the afternoon talking and laughing. And as Jongin sank deeply into his dreams, he was falling into the security…the comfort of the dream…the soothing ambience….

Until something black tore up the living room with a snarl, plunging everything into darkness before it lunged at them.

_No!_ Jongin wanted to scream as he watched it attack Jongdae and Sehun first.

_No!_ Jongin woke up screaming before he could protect them.

Oh. Thankfully, it was only a dream….only a dream.

“Are you okay?” Luhan whispered, poking Jongin lightly.

“Jongin, if you’re going to sleep, then please do so quietly,” his teacher chided before moving on with the next part of her lecture. Chanyeol obnoxiously laughed in front of him, and Jongin felt the tips of his ears burn.

“Just a bad dream. But it started out nice, so don’t worry,” Jongin muttered to Luhan.

“Let’s eat together after football practice today. I’ll buy you ice cream, okay?” Luhan asked. Luhan’s practice ended after sundown, so Jongin was perfectly happy with that.

“Buy me two scoops today,” Jongin smiled.

“Jongin, if you’re not going to pay attention in class, then please do not impede Luhan’s learning either,” his teacher sighed.

Jongin suffered through the rest of school, diligently attempting to take notes based on what he heard since he still could not read the words on the board.

And finally after school ended, he raced towards the edge of the city, towards the house, towards Jongdae and Sehun.

The sound of the record greeted Jongin before Jongdae and Sehun did. It was always that same song, that same jazz…Perhaps Jongdae and Sehun alternated their records throughout the day because surely they must have different music other than this one song.

Jongin knocked timidly, and when no one rushed out to greet him, he cautiously tried to open the door and pushed it open when he found it unlocked. Surely Jongdae and Sehun wouldn’t mind him sneaking in like this again if they were expecting him?

But today, even though the oven was on, emitting those continual rays of warmth and sweet aromas throughout the house, Jongdae and Sehun were not there in the kitchen.

Because today, they were in the living room, arms around each other, smiles glowing for each other, eyes gazing at each other lovingly as they danced together and swayed to the soft music.

Jongin’s heart was bursting as he looked at the scene filled with such affection, and wistfully, he wished he could be loved like that one day, too.

The music didn’t stop, but Jongdae finally noticed Jongin’s quiet figure standing at the end of the front hallway.

“Jongin! Come join us,” Jongdae said as he and Sehun both reached out an arm to welcome Jongin.

Jongin was too happy to just drop off his book bag by the door as if it was his own house, and all but leapt into their open arms before they were just a mess of entwined limbs and swaying bodies, all dancing to and enjoying the lull of the jazz music.

If life could be like this all the time…not just in the late hours after the sunup and before sundown, Jongin would not care that his real parents were not as attentive as he liked or that his parents were not home as much as he liked or that his parents were not as openly loving as he would have liked.

But the soft thudding of feet down the stairs caught Jongin’s attention, and he froze as he saw yet again another stranger, this time a young man, interrupting them.

“Where is your basement?” he asked loudly, causing everyone to cease their dancing and causing the good mood to dissipate.

“Your room is upstairs,” Jongdae snapped, “Please wait for us, alright? We’ll attend to you in a bit.”

“It’s almost sundown,” Sehun said, causing Jongin to look and realize he spent all those hours that passed by so quickly dancing in loved arms.

Ah.

Sundown already.

What a shame.

“I know what’s in your basement,” the man said.

“Oh, for God’s sake,” Jongdae sighed, “I’m sorry, Jongin…Our guest is being such a _menace_.”

“It’s alright,” Jongin said, feeling concerned with the intimidating way the guest looked at him.

“Perhaps you should leave early today,” Sehun said, “Hopefully a more polite guest will come tomorrow and won’t bother us.”

“It’s the weekend tomorrow. I can finish my homework quickly so I can come earlier and spend the day with you. If I can?” Jongin asked hopefully.

“We’d love that,” Jongdae smiled, and Jongin wanted to scream.

With joy.

 

ϟ

 

There were some things that transcended all possible human comprehension.

Time was one of them.

Jongin couldn’t understand how fast time had passed, but suddenly months had flew by…all months spent visiting Jongdae and Sehun and enjoying their company.

His parents didn’t ask where he spent all his time. They never asked, and they probably never would ask anyways.

But Luhan did ask.

“Where do you go? Why do I rarely see you outside of school now?” Luhan asked one day when they were at a retro diner sipping on strawberry milkshakes.

“I’m visiting family,” Jongin muttered, and it was only a half lie. While he was not related by blood to Jongdae or Sehun, he did…feel a very strong connection to them anyways.

“What family? I thought it was just you and your parents here,” Luhan shook his head, “I don’t understand.”

“ _Family_ ,” Jongin repeated again, and Luhan studied him for a moment longer and observed his reluctance to answer before dropping the subject.

“Whatever…you owe me a sundae next time since I’m paying today. Okay?” Luhan shrugged, and soon they were laughing and chatting good-naturedly like usual as they sipped their soft pink milkshakes.

But even now…even when Jongin only had Luhan for company, he saw familiar things from that house around him.

He saw a bit of Sehun’s features in Luhan’s own face…the defined jawline…the soft nose…As his gaze wandered outside he saw Jongdae’s brightness in the group of people erupting with laughter outside. And he saw the same love Jongdae and Sehun displayed in a young couple that was showering each other with sloppy kisses.

It was so easy for Jongin to see the things he had grown so fond of in the sights and people around him.

But since Jongin could not actually see the things he needed to see such as the black board in school, this was a problem.

So after finally scheduling an eye examination with Yixing, Jongin biked his way to Yixing’s optometry office one afternoon and walked inside, the doorbells tolling noisily and causing Yixing to look up from his newspapers. Yixing liked collecting newspapers from every day, and Jongin didn’t know exactly how long he’d been collecting newspapers, as there were newspapers streaming out of every shelf and surface.

Jongin sat patiently as Yixing examined his eye, answering questions that Yixing asked him about his school…what he hoped to do in college even though he had absolutely no fucking idea. And then he began asking deeper questions…why didn’t Jongin’s parents come with him…what was Jongin was up to these days.

“You don’t stay very long when you visit me recently. Where do you go these days?” Yixing asked before he beckoned for Jongin to look in some boxy machine and to tell him what he saw.

There was something about Yixing. Maybe it was the patient look, the expectant way he’d wait for an answer, but Jongin could not bring himself to lie to such a person like him. So he told him most of the truth.

“There is a house…on the edge of the city that I like exploring in and visiting when I don’t want to go back home,” Jongin nodded, finally squinting into the lens of the machine and seeing blue smudges. He thought it was a field of blue flowers, but apparently somehow he was supposed to see an ocean instead.

“Oh really? Interesting. I wasn’t aware of any houses past the city,” Yixing hummed, and while Jongin could not lie to Yixing, he was not sure if Yixing would lie to Jongin at all, too.

“Do you know anything about old houses here?” Jongin asked.

“Have you asked your parents? I’m sure they must know something about all the houses here…being real estate agents and all,” Yixing said as he scribbled unintelligible words into his clipboard, “But you’re always welcome to look through my newspapers. Maybe someone wrote about old houses back then.”

So later that day Jongin asked his parents if they knew of a house beyond the city. But when they shook their heads and said they had never heard of such a place, that was probably when Jongin should have began thinking that there was something strange about that house.

Perhaps certain things wouldn’t have had to happen then.

 

ϟ

 

There were some things that transcended all possible human comprehension.

The blue flowers that grew outside Jongdae’s and Sehun’s house were some of them.

The beautiful flowers that dotted the grassy landscape outside the house were the last things on Jongin’s mind when he had first started coming to visit. But when he tripped a bit in his haste to leap up the stairs that lead to the door one day, he had stumbled into some of those blue flowers.

Marigolds.

At least they looked like Marigolds.

Perhaps nature or some other force mutated the flowers, as their distinctive golden color was absent. But there they still were. Blue and beautiful.

_Mariblues_ , Jongin mentally nicknamed them.

Fascinated by the flowers, Jongin had picked some for Jongdae and Sehun. Perhaps they could put them in the large vase in the living room.

“You’re giving us our own flowers?” Jongdae had teasingly asked, raising his eyebrows as Jongin pressed a bouquet of them into his hands.

“They’re mariblues,” Jongin said sweetly.

“Don’t mind him, Jongin,” Sehun had stepped in, “We can’t pick them anyways, so thank you for bringing them to us.”

_Why not?_ Jongin had wanted to ask. Why could they not go pick flowers for themselves? Were they under house arrest? Were they vampires who couldn’t go out in the sunlight? But Jongin had laughed the idea of that off. He had seen Jongdae and Sehun step into dazzling sunlight when they walked in front of windows, and besides…surely vampires and other supernatural beings were only fictional stories.

But the next day, Jongin had picked another bouquet of mariblues to give to Jongdae and Sehun, though when he went to replace the old flowers, they had not wilted a single bit.

“Maybe they’ll wilt in a couple of days or so,” Jongdae had said, though he had taken the new flowers and placed them in a spare vase on the middle of the dining table.

But they didn’t.

Over the course of the months, Jongdae’s and Sehun’s house became dotted with mariblues that were as fresh and alive as they were the day Jongin picked them, and soon little blue bunches of flowers hung from the ceiling and stood bursting from the vases.

“Why do you think they’re blue instead of gold,” Jongin said one day as he examined the flowers in the vase.

“I guess they were too stubborn to listen to nature,” Sehun said, “Who said they have to be gold?”

“Why do you think they won’t wilt, too? Look at them!” Jongin said, pointing exasperatedly at the flowers.

“I guess they were too stubborn to die,” Jongdae smiled, reaching out to grasp Sehun’s hands, “Who said they have to fade?”

There were plenty of logical reasons why they just could not be, and Jongin did not understand these flowers or how they were. But they were still beautiful, blooming, and blue, so there was no use in asking questions that he didn’t need answers to.

But eventually the house was so overflowed with flowers that Jongdae and Sehun had asked Jongin to help take out some flowers and decorate the front and back of their house for them since they apparently could not.

Jongin had finished moving most of the flowers out of the living room and outside where he’d arrange them later, and he couldn’t seem to find Sehun or Jongdae, as they had both disappeared to most likely bring out extra flowers from other corners of the house. So curiously he had began wandering upstairs. It was probably wrong of him to snoop around again, but he couldn’t help it. He wanted to understand what they did, why they had to look after those guests every day, and to see where they must stay. The jazz music of the record that played downstairs faded softly in the distance, muted by the walls Jongin passed.

Jongin found what was most likely Jongdae’s and Sehun’s shared room. It was just the right balance of neat and messy, as while the room was mostly spotless, the bed was extraordinarily untidy, the pillows laying around while the sheets were ruffled. And close to their room Jongin found their library…a little room filled with bookshelves and books piled neatly on them. Perhaps he should buy Yixing a bookshelf one day so he could organize all his newspapers better…

And then at the end of the hallway he found a door with a sloppily drawn star taped to the door.

Unable to resist the temptation of looking, Jongin grasped the doorknob and slowly opened the door.

There were crayon pictures of dogs taped to the wall, glow-in-the-dark stars glued to the ceiling, and toys scattered upon the floor. And in the corner of the room stood a racecar bed. Cute. Jongin liked racecars when he was younger.

But who was the child that played with these toys? Slept in this bed? Where was the child that stayed here?

Jongin had only seen older guests that Jongdae and Sehun hosted, so perhaps maybe the children stayed out of sight upstairs while their parents or guardians stayed below?

“Jongin?” a voice called out, and Jongin could not hide himself in time, so there he stood….in a place where he probably should not have been.

“There you are,” Jongdae said as the door opened. His smile seemed smaller as he walked into the room.

“Do you have a kid? Or a child guest? How come I’ve never met them?” Jongin asked, unable to stop himself. Jongdae’s face fell even further, and Jongin regretted his question instantly. This time it was Sehun who spoke as he moved to grasp Jongdae’s shoulder comfortingly.

“Our son,” Sehun began to say, his jaw clenching unpleasantly, “is no longer with us.”

“I’m sorry,” Jongin said, not used to and not liking that he was seeing these two people he had grown so fond of look so deeply hurt. Their son’s death must have been tragic. Unexpected…if they were unwilling to let go of their son since the room looked untouched for so long.

“He would’ve been your age by now, Jongin,” Sehun said.

“That’s right…This year, he would’ve been eighteen,” Jongdae nodded rapidly, blinking tears out of his eyes.

In the dark lighting of the room, the two of them looked aged…older than they appeared, and Jongin didn’t understand why such loving people had to have such horrible things happen to them. They appeared to be unable to leave their house. They were stuck tending to unpleasant guests day after night after day. And now their son was dead.

Jongin didn’t understand a lot of things, but death was perhaps one of those things he thought he would never be able to even fathom.

Why did it happen to the young.

Why did it happen to the old.

The good.

The gold.

But the mariblues that Jongdae held in his hand seemed to defy everything, so Jongin gently took a flower from Jongdae’s clenched hand and propped it upon the pillow.

Perhaps in another lifetime, another universe, he would’ve been best friends with Jongdae’s and Sehun’s son.

Perhaps he would’ve gone to school with him every day…What would that have been like? Would he have diligently kept Jongin from falling asleep like Luhan often did? Or would he have joined Jongin as they fell asleep together?

Jongin didn’t doubt that they would’ve walked or biked home together, welcomed by Jongdae’s and Sehun’s open arms and cheerful smiles as they asked them how was their day while pressing kisses to their foreheads…

And so the rest of the day after Jongin helped rearrange the plucked flowers outside tidily, he sat with Jongdae and Sehun in the living room.

But this time, they didn’t bake pies, they didn’t sing, they didn’t dance. Their conversations were not as lively as they had been before, as Jongdae and Sehun were still stunned from the reminder of the loss that continually haunted them, and between the silences before their conversations resumed, Jongin could hear someone rummaging around in the kitchen. Probably a guest. Jongin didn’t question their presence this time or where the other guests went.

But Jongin’s attention snapped back immediately to the conversation as Sehun asked that question.

“Is there anyone you like?” Sehun asked as Jongdae curled up into his side for comfort. Jongin wanted something like that…a relationship either romantic or platonic…that was as trusting as Jongdae’s and Sehun’s.

“Yeah,” Jongin admitted, thinking about Chanyeol.

“Tell us about them,” Jongdae tried to smile as he traced a finger over Sehun’s lap.

Jongin talked…finding the topic pulling up the corners of his lips even though he had no right to be happy when Jongdae and Sehun were still mourning, still sad, still listening and trying to smile for him.

But he couldn’t help it. He was so smitten with Chanyeol, and suddenly he found himself grinning as he told them how he liked Chanyeol’s pointy ears and how they reddened slightly when he was embarrassed, how he liked Chanyeol’s unshakable confidence in doing anything even when he was failing miserably, how he liked the way Chanyeol unashamedly played guitar incorrectly…Jongin talked so much that he didn’t notice the sun plummeting rapidly down the horizon as the moon threatened to rise and replace it. This was perhaps the latest that Jongin stayed at their house.

“You should ask him on a date,” Sehun encouraged, “If he makes you that happy, you should go for it.”

“Really? What if he says no?” Jongin asked, the possibility of Chanyeol turning him down or accepting both making his cheeks redden.

“Then you find another person you’d do anything for. And then we’ll….have a talk with Chanyeol. Just him and us,” Jongdae smiled at last.

Jongin left a little late that day right when the sun was setting, and because his heart was bursting with hope, he did not notice how Jongdae’s hair looked a little longer and messier than usual, how Sehun’s glasses looked clearer than ever…almost as if they were almost invisible, and how the house’s warmly painted walls appeared darker than ever.

But he still could not shake the sadness that tinged his heart when he thought of Jongdae’s and Sehun’s dead son.

 

ϟ

 

Jongdae and Sehun did not mention their son again, and so Jongin thought it was best they left the topic untouched because he did not want to upset them again. And while Jongin was never completely used to the presence of the odd guests that stayed at the house, things became good again. They laughed again, danced again, baked again.

Jongin wondered what would happen if he just ran away from his parents to go live with Jongdae and Sehun.

He also wondered if his parents would even notice him missing.

After all, on days like this, they were still only working, only seeming to be immersed in how many houses they were going to sell this month, how many clients they were meeting with today.

“I’m coming home late again today. Is that okay?” Jongin tried to ask his parents at breakfast even though he came home late every day anyways.

Silence.

“Has anyone bought Mr. Wu’s house yet? Are we getting new neighbors soon?” Jongin tried again.

“No, not yet. We’ve got several clients looking into the house, and they all seem in no rush of purchasing, so it doesn’t look like anytime soon,” his mother answered.

Jongin could do that.

He could talk about houses and real estate in order to talk to his parents. But suddenly the conversation was spiraling out of control as his parents began talking about things he did not understand like mortgages and refinances.

So quietly, he dismissed himself and left for his paper route. And that day, just like the other days, he traded the daily newspaper for one of Yixing’s carrots. But before biking off to school, Yixing had told him his new glasses would be ready soon.

“You’re sure I’ll be able to see the blackboard better, right?” Jongin asked.

“You’ll be able to see more than that, thankfully,” Yixing smiled, his dimples appearing cutely.

And at school, Jongin had moped to a very exasperated Luhan about how he wanted to confess to Chanyeol…resting his head on the desk as his fingers traced little hearts in the scratched surface of the table.

“I don’t know what you see in that guy,” Luhan shook his head, looking pityingly at Jongin.

“Luhan, he plays the guitar,” Jongin sighed dreamily, recalling the day Chanyeol first brought his guitar he had not bothered to tune properly to class where he confidently sang a loud, obnoxious rendition of some cliché pop song while the whole class played along and cheered for him. What a fool. Jongin was smitten immediately.

“I play the guitar, too, and even better than that guy, so why don’t you just date me instead, huh?” Luhan teased, and although his tone was light, there was no smile on his face.

Jongin didn’t have an answer to that.

 

ϟ

 

The day after that, Jongin decided he was going to confess to Chanyeol. A simple confession would do, right? Everyone appreciated honesty and sincerity.

But before he could bravely head out for the day, his mother stopped him, looking up at him for once as she spoke.

“There’s a package for you outside,” she said. Jongin nodded before kissing her and his father on their cheeks before leaving.

And on the top stair of his porch, there sat a brown package, a little dented, a little ruffled probably from its delivery.

Even though he was a little late for his paper route, Jongin sat on his porch, pulling the package into his lap to examine it closer. He shook it lightly, and almost dropped it in surprise when it let out a tinkling, glassy sound. It wasn’t anything dangerous was it?

Holding his breath, Jongin carefully tore the top open, and out fell a black case.

Oh.

It was just his glasses.

Nothing dangerous at all.

Yixing had insisted that Jongin should trust his taste in lenses and frames and had offered to pick out the best glasses for him. Jongin did not regret that, as he pulled out black glasses that looked a bit similar to Sehun’s clear ones.

And when he biked through his paper route, remembering to thank Yixing on the way, and then to school, suddenly he could see.

The things he couldn’t see easily were more apparent, and now he could finally see the words on the black board, see the veins on Luhan’s arms before he pulled him into a hug in greeting, and see even clearer the wrinkles on Chanyeol’s face when he laughed at lunch.

Jongin hoped he could be a person that’d make Chanyeol laugh like that.

And he did…he did make him laugh, but for all the wrong reasons when he finally confessed that yes, he did like him…and yes, he thought Chanyeol was spectacularly stunning.

“That’s cute,” Chanyeol chuckled, trying to brush past Jongin after he finished confessing.

“Wait! But I really mean it,” Jongin said, touching Chanyeol’s arm to stop him before he left just in case Chanyeol didn’t think he was sincere about it.

“Well. Then I can’t say I feel the same at all,” he shook his head, glancing distastefully at Jongin’s glasses. “And besides…You look better without glasses.”

“But…then why did you talk to me everyday? Sit with me sometimes if you—“ Jongin blurted out, panicking as this was going worse than he imagined.

“Oh…you’re serious about this? You actually thought I liked you? I just wanted your homework, Jongin…it’s nothing personal,” Chanyeol said as his friends laughed behind him.

Jongin was wearing his glasses now, but his vision had become blurry yet again from all tears that leapt to his eyes.

Luhan, who had been silently encouraging Jongin from behind the lockers, emerged angrily as he stalked past the bystanders and punched a laughing Chanyeol straight across his face.

“You’re _dead_ , Chanyeol,” Luhan yelled, and if there was more time, if Jongin was not on the verge of tears, he would have stayed to kick Chanyeol’s face in until someone stopped him. But for now, he quickly grabbed Jongin’s hand and lead him outside to escape the scene.

Jongin let himself numbly nestle his head into Luhan’s shoulder for a whole thirty minutes before he’d rush off to that house and before Luhan would have to unfortunately go to his football game. He was pleasantly cheered up by the vicious way Luhan tore into Chanyeol with words as he patted Jongin’s shoulder.

“I always knew he was a fucktrumpet. It’s a pity I didn’t get to punch him more,” Luhan venomously spat.

“Fucktrumpet,” Jongin mused, “Thanks, Luhan.”

“Pick a better guitar-playing guy to like next time,” Luhan said.

“I will,” Jongin solemnly promised.

On the way to Jongdae’s and Sehun’s house, Jongin didn’t think he needed his glasses anymore, so he took them off because his eyes were blurry enough already. It wouldn’t make a difference.

But this time, a gaggle of small children opened the door with giggles when he knocked, tugging on his arms to lead him inside.

“Are these your guests for today?” Jongin asked Jongdae when he saw him before a dark shadow caught his eye in the corner of the room. Ah. Another person sat on the bottom of the stairs looking out of place in the warm environment.

“Hm…not the usual type of guests, but friendlier. Nicer. Sweeter,” Jongdae said as he tousled the hair of a little girl who went to hide shyly behind his leg.

With a sigh, Sehun entered from the kitchen to greet Jongin, struggling as eager children clung to his legs.

“We’re having a party today for them,” Sehun said as he gently secured a child that had jumped from a chair onto his back, “Stay and have fun?”

Jongin weakly nodded, glad to have anything to distract him from Park Fucking Chanyeol.

And as he helped Jongdae assemble the food onto platters in the kitchen, today, Jongin skirted around questions of how he was doing…how was his day…that Jongdae sweetly asked him. After they had encouraged him to go confess, looking hopeful for him, how could he worry them by telling him it went badly? Instead, today, he insisted on asking Jongdae how was _he_ doing? Did Sehun try to help cook today? Were his guests bothersome? Who were these children?

“Oh, they just stopped by for the day,” Jongdae said as he picked up a tray of freshly cut fruit and beckoned for Jongin to help him bring the rest to the living room table.

For the day?

Where were their parents?

Where did they come from?

Jongin didn’t understand, but he did not question it, as he simply helped Jongdae carry the food that the children picked up with sticky hands, their laughter blending with the jazz that the record played in the corner.

“Sehun, don’t you think it’s a bad idea to place the piñata for them inside?” Jongdae said, eyeing his vase nervously as Sehun continued to hoist a piñata from the ceiling.

“Well. Where else are we supposed to put it, Jongdae?” Sehun asked.

“Right. I forgot. Not the outside,” Jongdae’s expression fell.

Jongin sat from a corner watching the children excitedly dance around the piñata while Sehun gave one of them a bat and told them to take turns. Squinting, he tried to look at the piñata and found it blurry again.

Oh right.

His glasses.

Before the children began to hit the piñata, Jongin pulled out his glasses and put them on.

And as the pleasant, warm colored scene shifted immediately to a darker, deadlier one, Jongin’s blood ran cold.


	2. Chapter 2

Instead of the deep, golden colors of the living room, now everything had darkened, the wallpaper peeling off of blackened walls.

Instead of the lull of the smooth French jazz that crackled quietly from the corner of the room, now only static screeches emitted out of the now rusty record player.

Instead of the Jongdae and Sehun who Jongin knew and was accustomed to, with their soft, sweet expressions and who were dressed in those long-sleeved pastel-colored shirts, Jongdae’s hair was now shaggier, Sehun’s glasses had disappeared, and the two of them wore dark, high-collared suits. Blood seeped out of the top of Jongdae’s collar, dripped off of the hem of Sehun’s shirt, and trickled out of the children’s skin.

And before Jongin had time to scream after taking in such an abrupt change in scenery, those bloody children began gleefully hitting the piñata with their now barbed, spiked sticks.

Except instead of a piñata, a hanging dead cat had taken its place.

And when they finally whacked it hard enough, letting out little shrieks when they landed blows, the cat exploded, its bloody flesh exposed. Now instead of candy, blood and organs burst out of the cat’s carcass, and the children rushed forward to pick up and eagerly stuff the raw, rancid entrails into their mouths like it was chocolate.

Jongdae turned, noticed Jongin’s shocked expression, and headed towards him.

“Is everything okay?” he asked, pushing back his wavy, messy hair…so unlike the neatly parted hair Jongin was used to seeing.

And Jongin didn’t know what the fuck was wrong with him…what the fuck was wrong with his mind, but after standing and taking such a scene in before him, he had enough. He had absolutely _enough_ of this, and he burst out sobbing…wishing that whatever the fuck was wrong with him or whatever prank this was would stop…just _stop_.

He was too stunned to push this different Jongdae away from him, so he let this Jongdae hug him concernedly as he asked what was wrong, what happened, why was he crying.

How the fuck was he supposed to know?

Jongin’s vision blurred again, and vaguely he saw a tall figure rush towards him and place an arm on his shoulder. It was Sehun probably. But it was not the Sehun he knew.

So Jongin shut his eyes tight and ripped off his glasses, trying to futilely block out the sound of the screeching record by placing his hands over his head.

“Jongin, what’s wrong? Tell me what’s wrong?” Jongdae frantically asked him.

But there was silence now. And then record started playing once again…the slow jazz was back, calming him down and pulling him out of that panicked state.

Cautiously, Jongin opened one eye. And then the other.

And everything was back to normal.

The room was warm…bright again with sunlight dancing over the pastel walls, the children were eating their candy next to the broken piñata, and Jongdae and Sehun no longer had blood streaming out of their bodies, no longer wore those dark suits, and no longer seemed completely different.

Oh.

Was it all in his mind then?

No…everything had changed when he had put on his glasses, and everything had changed back after he took them off.

Jongin didn’t understand what had happened, but he immediately blamed them on his glasses. That was surely the only reason…His mind was fine…His mind was fine…He was _fine_.

“Jongin, what’s wrong? Sehun, what happened?” Jongdae asked before turning to Sehun worryingly.

“Let’s just have him sit down,” Sehun quietly said, guiding Jongin’s frozen body to the couch.

Jongin’s eyes darted rapidly around the room as he took in the restored settings as he cried. Where did the blood go? Where did the horror go? Where did the darkness go? Everything looked normal now. Almost _too_ normal.

This is real.

This is _real_.

 _This_ is real…

Jongdae and Sehun gave up trying to ask Jongin and simply sat in silence, each holding one of his hands. Jongin grasped their offered hands tightly to anchor him here…in _this_ version of the house.

Jongin couldn’t really answer Jongdae and Sehun by saying that _oh your house fucking turned into some bloody horror story for a moment_ or even _oh I think there’s something wrong with my mind_ because none of them sounded plausible.

So, after the tears stopped coming and he was uneasily calm again, Jongin spoke.

“I confessed to Chanyeol today. He rejected me and said he was just using me for my homework,” Jongin said, and it was not a lie. He was still bitter that he wasted moments he could’ve spent thinking about something else on him.

“Oh, Jongin,” Jongdae sighed, taking Jongin into his arms. Jongin let himself numbly rest his head on Jongdae’s neck, and briefly for a fleeting moment, Jongdae’s warmth reminded him of Luhan’s.

And suddenly Jongin was letting words spill from his lips, telling them how he had hoped it would have gone alright, how Luhan had punched Chanyeol after, how he was silly for not seeing the ways Chanyeol only talked to him for his homework. But from his place buried in Jongdae’s shoulder, he did not see the way Jongdae’s lips twisted down cruelly, the way his gaze was determinedly resolute, and the way he looked at Sehun in a way that would have sent down eerie shivers down Jongin’s spine.

“Tell him to come here. We’ll talk to him,” Sehun said behind him.

“Yes. Please do tell him to come,” Jongdae said, his words laced with a subtle tinge of malice.

Jongin envisioned Jongdae yelling at Chanyeol for bruising Jongin’s heart, Sehun continuing what Luhan started by punching Chanyeol’s face, both of them defending him so passionately and saying all the things he wished he was brave enough to say…and he found himself agreeing.

So that day right before he left, Jongin promised to bring Chanyeol to them when he could, and on the bike ride home, Jongin thought of all the ways they would make Chanyeol suffer as his glasses hung off of his chest.

He had been too traumatized to wear them again.

ϟ

 

Jongin did not wear his glasses again the next day, too scared of what he might see again. He had already concluded that he was _fine_ , that his mind was _fine_ , so surely it must be the glasses that were malfunctioning.

He could totally go the rest of his life with blurry vision. Or he could get contacts. But then again, the thought of sticking his fingers and lenses directly into his eyeballs every single day and night seemed even worse.

So blurry vision it was.

But Yixing didn’t agree, and as Jongin biked by to hand him his newspaper, he frowned as he saw Jongin.

“Did the post office misplace your glasses? Why aren’t you wearing them? It’s dangerous to keep biking around if your eyesight isn’t perfect,” Yixing chided.

“I…they’re a bit uncomfortable to wear?” Jongin sheepishly said. His glasses were still in the case, shoved at the very bottom of his backpack, and he had not touched them since.

“Oh, come on in…I thought I measured your face properly, but oh well…I’ll fix them for you quickly,” Yixing said, opening the door and motioning Jongin to come inside.

“But…I have school?” Jongin weakly said, but it was no use. Yixing had already grabbed his arm and lead him inside, the front bells tolling as the door swung open again.

Jongin reluctantly sat down around Yixing’s waiting room, glancing at the newspapers around as he waited for Yixing to retrieve his tools to fix his glasses. Yixing had asked him to take out his glasses, so there they were…sitting harmlessly on the table magnifying the words of the newspapers.

“Put them on and let me see why they won’t fit properly,” Yixing gently said, motioning for Jongin to wear his glasses.

Jongin hesitated and closed his eyes before he slid the frame onto his face, unwilling to see if Yixing’s optometry office would turn black or if any blood would start dripping from Yixing’s body just like it had happened at that house when he wore the glasses.

“Your glasses fit perfectly, Jongin. What’s bothering you about it?” Yixing asked.

“I just…what if I saw something while wearing them…but they disappeared when I took them off?” Jongin said, still keeping his eyes shut. And while this was a good alternative to seeing those bloody scenes, everything was still black. Pitch black.

“It depends. What type of things?” Yixing continued to ask.

“Stuff that you’d call the cops on me for,” Jongin winced, wondering why he was so honest with Yixing. There was something about that man…who was able to coax the truth from Jongin so effortlessly even if he did not return any obvious truths in return.

“I see. Are you sure it’s your glasses?” Yixing said, tilting his head interestedly. Not that Jongin saw him.

“It _has_ to be,” Jongin nodded furiously, though Yixing’s sudden chuckle jolted him from his forced blindness as he opened his eyes to see what was so funny.

But instead of anything black, bloody, or dangerous like Jongin had expected, Yixing’s optometry office did not have bloody hanging eyeballs, human skin instead of newspapers, or anything else horrific.

It was just the same.

Bright, messy, and…

Normal.

“What if it’s in your head?” Yixing asked, tapping his own head to reinforce his point.

“I…I don’t know,” Jongin said.

“Try to keep wearing them, Jongin. How will you study if you can’t read the board?” Yixing said, waving Jongin good-bye as he went to greet a new patient that walked through the door.

Jongin kept his glasses on for the rest of the day, though he was suspicious and wary every of single moment.

And even though he was still on edge, everything…was more or less back to normal.

No one had blood seeping out of them.

Chanyeol was still a fool.

And so the rest of the day, Jongin wondered if it really was all in his head.

What he _wished_ was in his head and not actually happening, though, was Chanyeol turning around to bother Jongin and ask for his homework to copy.

“What do you mean you won’t give me your homework?” Chanyeol asked, his eyes widening as his bottom lip jutted out into a pout. Before, Jongin would’ve thought it was cute and passed off his homework with a smile. But he remembered yesterday’s events and shook his head, dropping his gaze back to his textbook and attempting to ignore him.

“Come on…what do I have to do to see your homework? How else am I supposed to pass this class?” Chanyeol complained, banging a fist on the table, causing Jongin to wince at the loud sound.

Jongin briefly remembered Jongdae’s and Sehun’s words….and how he said he’d bring Chanyeol to them to meet. And so he spoke, feeling lucky that Luhan had been temporarily suspended as punishment for punching Chanyeol because he would have been disgusted to hear what Jongin had to say next.

“Go on a date with me,” Jongin said, forcing a smile that did not reach his eyes to form on his face.

“This again? I told you, I won’t date a person like you,” Chanyeol shook his head.

“Just one time. What could hurt? I’ll leave you alone after that, and I’ll give you my homework after,” Jongin said.

“Fine,” Chanyeol gave in, “I’ll buy you some ice cream and that’s it.”

Ice cream was Luhan’s thing, so Jongin wasn’t letting Chanyeol taint that experience.

“I’m visiting some family. Just walk me to them and walk me back,” Jongin said.

“Done. I’ll meet you after school,” Chanyeol said, snatching Jongin’s homework from him successfully before turning back around to copy before class started.

 

ϟ

 

“If this is a date, can you please take your glasses off? I still like you better without them,” Chanyeol said, shoving his hands into his pocket as he began walking with Jongin towards Jongdae’s and Sehun’s house. Jongin took them off silently, hoping that Chanyeol would have a long lecture and perhaps a punch or three waiting for him before sundown.

“Where is this place anyways? We’re walking so far. Does your grandma live in the middle of the woods or something?” Chanyeol asked as they began to reach the outskirts of the town.

“I never said we were visiting my grandmother,” Jongin murmured, pushing on ahead as they walked further and further away from the city until a field of mariblues that lightly waved in the wind awaited them.

“Why the fuck would anyone live here. It’s so far from town,” Chanyeol muttered as they reached the top stair of the house, kicking aside plucked mariblues in his boredom. Jongin took a deep breath before calmly thinking he could just rearrange them later when Chanyeol left.

“Jongin! How are you?” Jongdae said as he opened the door to pull him into a hug. Today, just like all the other days, he was wearing that slightly oversized blue sweater while the sound of jazz music crept softly out from the living room. What had happened before, Jongin thought, was probably a result of sleep deprivation or something.

“Oh. You must be Chanyeol?” Jongdae said, his smile growing even wider…dangerously stretched upon his face.

“How do you know my name?” Chanyeol asked, snapping his head up to look at Jongdae surprisingly.

“Sehun!” Jongdae called out as he leaned back into the house, “Jongin brought Chanyeol today.”

“Oh?” Sehun’s voice echoed from the house, and soon he himself walked to the door towering over Jongdae as he glanced at Chanyeol with a calculating gaze, “Come in then. Jongdae made pie.”

“Pie? Wow, Jongin…Bring me to visit your family more often,” Chanyeol excitedly said, and he pushed past Jongin to enter the house, immediately letting his guard down as the music from the record soothed him and the promise of free food disarmed him.

“Family?” Jongdae fondly repeated Chanyeol’s words, his quiet tone heard only by Sehun as the music drowned it out, “Jongin called us family?”

And so the four of them spent the early evening talking and eating pie, though every time Chanyeol finished a slice, he immediately asked Jongdae for another one. Soon, two pies were finished even though Jongdae, Sehun, and Jongin hadn’t even finished their first slice.

“Can I have another slice? It’s so good,” Chanyeol sighed as he pushed his empty plate towards Jongdae again before engaging a very annoyed Sehun into a conversation about sports fields.

“Come with me, Jongin. Help me bring out more pie and some fruit I washed earlier,” Jongdae said, picking up Chanyeol’s plate and smiling as politely as he could. Sehun threw Jongdae a look for leaving him alone with Chanyeol, but Jongdae blew him a kiss in return.

“What a _pig_ ,” Jongdae muttered as they reached the kitchen and he began sharpening his knife to cut another slice of pie. Jongin didn’t know why Jongdae needed to sharpen a knife to cut pie, but….okay.

“I’ll like a better person in the future,” Jongin wrinkled his nose in disgust.

“Yes. Pick a better person in the future, okay?” Jongdae nodded firmly as he continued to sharpen his knife, the dissonant sounds of scratching metal causing Jongin to wince slightly, “Pick people who’d fight for you no matter what…who’d give up everything for you…who’d do _anything_ for you.”

“Pie for me?” came a voice behind them, and Jongdae instinctively turned, holding the blade offensively. He did not lower his guard or the blade after he turned, only to find one of his odd guests loitering about.

“It’s sundown, Jongin. I’m sorry, but it’s time to go,” Jongdae said, ignoring his guest as he turned back his attention to Jongin.

“Already? Chanyeol took all of the time I wanted to spend with you and Sehun,” Jongin’s face fell, causing Jongdae to sigh.

“You’re so sweet, Jongin. If only things could be different,” Jongdae’s gaze softened. “But just go…Forget Chanyeol. We’ll have a nice talk with him.”

Jongdae looked so warm, so comforting, and as Jongin hugged him one last time before leaving, he was certain of this.

Whatever had happened last time had been all in his head.

There was no way Jongdae could look on scenes of horror with such eerie calmness and complacency.

There was no way Jongdae could have all that blood seeping from his collar.

There was no way this house could be anything but safe and perfect.

 

ϟ

 

Jongin expected to see Chanyeol at school the next day sporting fresh bruises and with an apology prepared. But Chanyeol was not here this day.

Or the next.

Or the next.

Or the next.

Chanyeol often slept over at his friends’ houses throughout the week, so it took a week and a half for his parents to panickedly file a missing person’s report.

And so the local police had begun their search for Chanyeol, who had somehow mysteriously disappeared and failed to show up to school and failed to come back home. They investigated everything and everyone, asking his teachers if he was a troubled student, asking his parents if he had trouble with anyone, asking students who he was last seen with after school.

People had told the police what had happened between Chanyeol and him, so it took an extra half of a week for Jongin to be called in for questioning. Jongin didn’t actually know what had happened to Chanyeol after he left the house, but since Jongdae and Sehun were the last people who were with him, he could not implicate or draw any suspicion towards them.

“So you don’t know where Chanyeol went after you left him?” the policeman asked.

“Not at all. You’ll find him, right?” Jongin said, making sure to wobble his lip for extra dramatic effect.

Jongin could not lie to Yixing, but he could lie to the police well enough so that they’d leave him alone and would not find Jongdae or Sehun.

But he did still wonder what happened to Chanyeol. And what Jongdae and Sehun did to him.

Perhaps they scared him so terribly well that he ran out of their house and took off for the deep forest where the local bears might have found him. But how they scared Chanyeol…Jongin did not know or understand.

But he didn’t ask either.

If Jongdae and Sehun did not bring up Chanyeol, then Jongin wouldn’t either. It was perhaps best to let some things remain unsaid and unknown.

And anyways, Jongin had bigger problems than Chanyeol, too. While he reluctantly wore his glasses throughout the day, he could not bring himself to try and wear his glasses in that house again. It was not like he needed it for anything there, so he wasn’t going to die without wearing them.

And so much time had passed between that first instance and now that Jongin could not help but think that he imagined the whole experience entirely.

But one day Sehun was attempting to help Jongdae cook dinner in the kitchen, Jongin rested on the couch listening to the record play, ignoring the guest who sat near him as he held his glasses in the air to examine them.

When he looked through the lenses now, everything looked fine. Magnified, but normal.

So. There couldn’t be anything wrong now if he wore these glasses, right?

Jongin held the glasses in the air for another moment, letting the sunlight from the window shine through before sighing and sitting up straight.

Nothing would change if he wore these glasses, right?

Impulsively before he could change his mind, Jongin slid the glasses onto his face.

And immediately, his hands flew to his mouth as he looked in shock again at the changed scene.

Jongin’s heart began pounding rapidly in his chest when everything he thought he knew changed…when the comforting, cozy living room changed as blood dripped from the ceiling, paint chipped and peeled off the dark walls, and screeches tore out of the record player instead of that previous soft music.

No, no, _no_.

Jongin immediately ripped off the glasses and took a calming breath when the dark scene disappeared and everything was back to normal again.

Was it his glasses then?

It wasn’t his mind, right?

Cautiously, Jongin slid the glasses back on again and everything was back to black.

He slid the glasses off again and everything was warm, bright, and as it should have been.

He stared the TV in disbelief…what would this change to then with these glasses?

Wincing, Jongin slid his glasses on and watched as in the TV’s place stood a tank of what looked like fucking _blood_ with things Jongin didn’t want to believe floating in it.

No, no, _no_.

That was enough.

Jongin ripped off his glasses and took a few panicked deep breaths.

It was definitely his glasses…

There was definitely no question about it now.

“You really don’t know what’s going on? That’s so funny,” someone laughed from the corner of the room, and frightened, Jongin whipped his head around to find the source of the voice. Oh. It was just the guest…just another guest…Where did all of Jongdae’s and Sehun’s guests go after they stayed for the day?

Jongin didn’t understand much anymore, but he was sure that there was something wrong with these glasses. Not his head.

And so Jongin had biked to Yixing’s office, tearing open the front door and causing the welcoming bells to toll violently.

“Please get me new glasses. I don’t want to wear these anymore, and there’s something wrong with them,” Jongin said as he threw down the case on Yixing’s newspaper-cluttered desk.

“What’s wrong with your glasses, Jongin? I thought I already looked at them last time,” Yixing said, putting down a newspaper he was reading to give Jongin his attention.

“These glasses _have_ to be some sick, twisted prototype for some four-dimensional horror vision because that’s the only explanation,” Jongin shook his head, frantically just trying to explain that he didn’t want to see any of those disturbing sights anymore.

“What about all those times you wore it without any issues?” Yixing asked, folding his hands together.

“What about these times when I wore it _with_ issues?” Jongin countered.

“Put them on and tell me if you see what you described to me,” Yixing said, pushing Jongin’s glasses towards him.

“Put them _on_ ,” Yixing said more firmly this time, his mouth tightening as Jongin reluctantly gave in and slid the glasses onto his face.

“What do you see?” Yixing asked.

“I…nothing,” Jongin said, unsure of whether or not he should be disappointed that Yixing’s office did not shift from a boring, messy workplace and into some serial killer’s bloody lair.

“You’re not lying to me, and you’ve obviously seen some distressing things, so the only question now is…Where do you go to see these things, Jongin?” Yixing asked, looking directly into Jongin’s eyes. In the dimmer lighting of the office, Jongin couldn’t read Yixing’s shadowed countenance well, and suddenly he wondered if he made a mistake to trust Yixing and tell him so much. But even now, he could not stop himself from telling Yixing some of what had happened to him.

“There is a house on the edge of town,” Jongin began to cautiously say as his voice slightly wavered, “Everyone says it doesn’t exist, but it does. I’ve been there. I’ve seen these things there, and it’s not in my head, I _swear_.”

Yixing continued gazing at Jongin intently, and even now, Jongin could not even guess what Yixing was thinking. Long moments seemed to pass before Yixing let out a chuckle and looked away from Jongin as if he had figured everything out all on his own without letting Jongin know.

“The night reveals what the day hides,” Yixing said.

“What? I don’t understand,” Jongin said, trying to make sense of how Yixing’s words were relevant to his glasses.

“Go back to this house at night and wear your glasses. Or not. Discover if you’ll see the same things at night,” Yixing nodded.

Jongin had always been curious of what happened after sundown in that house, and so he made up his mind to sneak back one day after he said his innocent good-byes and see for himself what was there.

If only that wasn’t a mistake.

 

ϟ

 

Jongin spent the next visit to the house in an unsettled state, worriedly looking around with his glasses in his pocket and pretending like he wasn’t going to spy on Jongdae and Sehun after he was supposed to leave. Today, a guest shadowed Jongin uncomfortably closely, and Jongin was grateful that Jongdae shooed the person away before he tried to sit next to Jongin again.

And soon it was time.

“If only you could stay longer, Jongin. It’s too bad the sun’s coming down sooner,” Sehun shook his head disappointedly as he walked Jongin to the door.

“Yeah…it’s too bad,” Jongin echoed.

He made a show of waving to Jongdae and Sehun earnestly and even bothered to bike about half a mile away, leaving his bike next to a tree while he crept back. But instead of taking the road like always, this time, he waded through the fields of mariblues that would lead him to the side of the house so he wouldn’t be seen, hoping no animal would jump up at him and watching as the sun was almost done dripping out of the sky.

And finally, he was at the side of the house, remembering to put on his glasses before he peeked through the living room window. Luckily, the curtains were not all the way drawn, so Jongin could look well enough without being too exposed.

Not so luckily, his glasses glitched again, and Jongin had to fight to not let out a scream when the living room he once knew as normal and bright shifted into that rancid room filled with those screams from the rusty record player. After seeing the shift so many times, Jongin thought he would’ve been prepared enough to see this bloody scene again, but no. Never.

And there was Jongdae.

Jongdae with his now messier, more unkempt hair in his black suit tidying up the dishes. At least Jongdae’s efficiency around the household didn’t change no matter what lens Jongin looked through.

Jongin began to calm down as he watched Jongdae work. This was just like a fake Halloween themed event at the theme parks. Yeah…that was it…Jongdae was just wearing a costume…The record player was just playing fake screams…The blood on the walls was just corn syrup and red dye…Yeah.

But there the guest was again standing eerily behind Jongdae. Both of them watched Jongdae silently, and perhaps it was a miracle Jongin wasn’t caught yet. And while Jongdae transformed so completely while Jongin wore the glasses, the guest did not. The guest was still mostly the same…still wearing dark clothing…but now, he looked crueler, his eyes glinting in the darkness as he crept closer to Jongdae.

What was it that Jongdae and Sehun did after Jongin left to their guests?

But soon, Jongin realized that the question he should have been asking was what did their guests do to them after Jongin left?

Because as Jongdae bent down to pick up the remaining dishes from the table, his guest lunged at him from behind and knocked him to the floor. Jongin couldn’t help but let out the scream…a scream that was drowned out by the screeches of the record player.

And before Jongin could blink, the guest had grabbed a knife from the table and stabbed Jongdae with it, letting out a primal shriek that sent Jongin into a terrified panic.

No, no, _no_ …

Jongin ripped off his glasses immediately…he was done with this…these glasses had gone too far. It was enough…fucking _enough_.

But what Jongin saw after he took off his glasses didn’t change. Everything was still dark. Jongdae was still crumpled on the floor as the guest leaned in to stab him again.

_No, no, no._

Jongin put on his glasses, ripped them off, put them on again, and took them off again.

Everything was still the same. Still bloody, still terrifying, still the same.

What was it with sundown?

What was it with the dark night?

Is this what he’d been seeing the whole time?

Is this what the sun hid during the daytime?

Jongin didn’t understand. He didn’t understand how Jongdae could still be moving around, attempting to get off the floor and push the guest away before he was stabbed again. And now Jongin was torn…torn between wanting to call the police for help and running inside to help Jongdae. Jongdae couldn’t die. He just _couldn’t_.

But what could Jongin do?

As he quickly found out, there was no cellular reception in the area, and the front door had been locked.

But when Jongin rushed back to the window after unsuccessfully trying to wrench the door open, he was relieved as he saw Sehun rush in with a snarl and kick the guest to the floor.

 _Good_.

Jongin watched with baited breath as Sehun ripped the guest off of Jongdae and knocked him out by smashing his head on the tank of blood. The tank shook from the force and blood splashed outside, staining the floor and the guest’s head.

Jongin saw Jongdae groan as he pushed himself upright before pulling out the knife from his stomach. Sehun immediately rushed over after he made sure the guest was fully unconscious and checked Jongdae for any other injuries before pressing a kiss to his forehead.

If Jongdae was this alert, this alive…then surely he’d make it?

Jongdae seemed more than fine for a person who’d just been stabbed as Jongin watched him drag the guest onto a chair where Sehun began chaining him. The police could easily arrest him now for what they did. He had some nerve…some nerve to take advantage of the hospitality he had been shown here…

Jongin sat down, feeling calmer after the danger had been taken care of. But what he saw next made him sit up straight and press his hands to the window in an effort to see more because he was wondering if the glasses had lingering effects.

Because suddenly he watched as Jongdae dunked a cup into the tank of blood and splashed it in their guest’s face until he awoke, spluttering and coughing up the blood as it sprayed. Sehun observed quietly before leaving momentarily.

“You thought you could take us easily? You can’t,” Jongdae said, shaking his head as he swung his fist across the guest’s face, “We still have business to take care of. Leave us _alone_.”

“Do you think this will end with me gone? You’re all fools, fucking _fools_ who don’t know when to give up,” the man screamed, tugging against his chains as he watched Sehun enter while carrying various tools and knives with him. And a chainsaw. A fucking chainsaw.

The guest’s back faced Jongin, so as Jongdae and Sehun took turns stabbing the guest, Jongin watched in horror as their sinister grins were illuminated by the moonlight that streamed in as blood continued to drip out of their clothing.

“Try again. Send another person tomorrow. And the day after that. And the day after that. And the day after _that_ ,” Sehun snarled as he threw his bloody knife to the floor, “We don’t care.”

“Fuck, just give it _up_ already and let me go then!” The man screamed.

Screaming…so much screaming…Jongin didn’t know if it came from the record, the guest, or his own self because he was horrified with the completely different way Jongdae and Sehun acted now. Sure, the guest attempted to murder Jongdae first, so they had every right to defend themselves back. But now as he watched Jongdae bend back the man’s arm until it was beyond broken and twisted, this was torture.

And when Sehun brought out the chainsaw and ripped it to life, surely this was murder.

“No…no I _swear_ you’ll pay for this. Just let me _go_. What the fuck do you even still want around here?” the man continued to scream, futilely tugging his remaining good arm from his chains.

“I don’t think you’d understand,” Jongdae shook his head, stepping back to watch Sehun press the edge of the screeching chainsaw against the man’s leg. Jongin felt nauseous…absolutely nauseous and horrified as he watched the severed leg fall to the floor, detached from the man’s body as a pool of blood immediately spilled out onto the floor.

But he couldn’t look away now. There was too much happening, and Jongin was afraid that if he took a break to throw up or even leave, he’d miss too much. He was too curious for his own good. Always too curious.

“Whatever you still want here…it’s not worth it,” the man gasped, “You know we’ll just send one every day until you come with us…by choice or by force,”

“We’d kill to regain what was ours,” Jongdae snarled as he raised the man’s head up by pulling on his hair to look at him closer.

“And we have. Take your last breath. You were an awful guest,” Sehun smiled dangerously before he held up a knife, “Jongdae do you want to do the honors today?”

“No, no…I did it yesterday. It’s your turn,” Jongdae said, patting Sehun’s shoulder lovingly with a bloody hand.

And so Jongin watched, horrorstruck, as Sehun bent down to slit the man’s throat. Blood splattered onto his skin and continued to drip onto the floor leaving a pool of rancid, red stains.

Jongin thought that surely it was over…Surely this must be it, right?

Wrong.

Sehun silently passed Jongdae an odd-looking tool, and Jongdae turned it on as the motor shrieked to life and the blade began whirring dangerously. Jongin didn’t know what he was sawing at until Jongdae plunged his hand into the man’s chest and smiled maliciously.

“You stole ours, so we’ll steal yours,” he said, “It’s only right. It’s only fair.”

Jongin didn’t know how much else he’d be stunned and shocked this night, but there he was…ready to scream again, his hands flying to cover his mouth as he continued staring in appalled revulsion.

Because there was Jongdae standing triumphantly above the man Sehun had just killed, his hands raw and red and holding the bloody heart he had ripped out of the man’s chest.

“Another night. Another life,” Sehun shook his head, “Not that it actually counts anyways.”

“Sometimes I think we love too much, Sehun. Doing everything for people you love is such a burden. Look at the things we’ve done,” Jongdae said, lowering the heart in his hand as if he was almost ashamed for a second.

“But look at the things people have done to us, too,” Sehun said, turning his back to Jongin as he lifted up his shirt.

Jongin couldn’t see what Sehun was showing Jongdae, but from the way Jongdae’s face hardened and the way his gaze shifted from dangerous to devastated, it could not be good.

Jongin didn’t stick around to see anything else. After he watched Sehun pull Jongdae into a rough embrace, he backed away from the glass window with shaking hands and ran as fast as he could until he found his abandoned bike resting by a tree where he left it.

When he finally reached his home, he tumbled off his bike and threw up on the lawn.

“Jongin? Is that you?” he heard his mom call out.

Never had he been so glad to hear her voice.

Never had he been so glad to come back to his own home.

 

ϟ

 

There were some things that transcended all possible human comprehension.

Jongdae and Sehun were two of them.

Jongin couldn’t understand anything. He couldn’t understand how the house he had come to love and especially how the people he had come to care for changed so drastically once the sun came down.

What was real?

Which Jongdae and Sehun were the real ones?

The kind, caring ones…or the sinister, murderous ones?

There was no possible reason Jongin could fathom why their guests would attack them like that, why Jongdae and Sehun thought it was necessary to kill them like that…why any of this happened at all.

“Has anyone bought the house next to ours yet? Have you been meeting with potential buyers?” Jongin desperately asked his parents questions he knew they’d answer in order to distract himself from his mental turmoil.

“We have some potential buyers, yes,” His mother said, looking up from her phone for a moment to respond to Jongin, “None of them are serious yet.”

“It’s nice to see you’re taking an interest in real estate, Jongin,” his father smiled, “Who knows…Maybe one day you’ll join the family business, too.”

“Who knows,” Jongin said, “It’d be nice to work with family.”

His parents weren’t the most attentive at times, but that didn’t mean they were the worst. Jongin should have felt more appreciative of such hardworking parents who provided so much for him.

And they most certainly weren’t serial killers either so. That was good.

That day, Jongin did not visit Jongdae or Sehun after breakfast. Instead, he biked his way to Yixing, hoping that he could have some answers…or at least if not answers, then he hoped Yixing’s serene presence would calm him down.

“How can I help you, Jongin? You’re not wearing your glasses again,” Yixing said as Jongin walked through his office, the doorbells tolling furiously to signal his presence.

“Something is wrong. I don’t know if it’s my glasses or my head, but I just…don’t know anymore. I don’t understand anything,” Jongin blurted out as he sat in front of Yixing.

“Calm down,” Yixing said, attempting to soothe Jongin, “Now tell me…What’s wrong?”

“I can’t tell you,” Jongin shook his head.

“Okay,” Yixing nodded, “Then why do you think something is wrong?”

“I keep _seeing_ things that shouldn’t be happening…shouldn’t be real….things that are so different than what I’m used to. And now I don’t understand what’s real or who or what I should believe,” Jongin said.

“So you think it’s your glasses,” Yixing smiled.

“Or my head,” Jongin said.

“Have you ever thought that it could actually be real? It’s not your glasses’ fault that you see whatever you’re seeing. And it’s not happening in your head. So if it’s not both, then what if what you’re seeing is the true reality?”

“But it doesn’t make sense. It can’t be,” Jongin insisted.

“Not everything has to make sense. Not everything does make sense. Not everything will make sense. I trust that you’ll figure out some things in time, though,” Yixing said before a patient walked through the door.

“If you want to stay and find something to distract yourself with,” Yixing said, this time a little more gently, “Do you want to help me order my newspapers? The years and dates have all been mixed up.”

So Jongin found himself sitting in Yixing’s office sifting through newspapers as he began to piece them together and place them in chronological order. Sometimes he’d be lucky and find three newspapers all from the same month and year laying in a row. Sometimes he’d be less lucky and find ten newspapers from different years in a row. It was interesting to see what the news was like back then though.

Four years ago the town’s current mayor was elected.

Five years ago the town’s library gained thousands of new donated books.

Six years ago the intricate fountain at town square was reconstructed.

And despite the tedious work, enough time had passed by so that it was almost dinnertime and almost time for Yixing to close up his shop.

“Come back anytime you want. I’ll give you some carrots next time,” Yixing said, waving as Jongin left for the day.

Jongin realized he hadn’t visited Jongdae and Sehun the whole day as soon as he walked out and watched the sun plummet down the horizon. Did they wonder where he had gone? Did they wonder why he didn’t visit today? Did they wonder if he’d come back tomorrow?

Jongin wondered if he’d ever come back.

But it was as hard to destroy old habits as it was hard to believe Jongdae and Sehun were really murderers, so instead of walking home, Jongin found himself walking towards that road, that field with the mariblues, that house…

He didn’t really know what he was going to do.

He couldn’t face Jongdae and Sehun after seeing them do those things, and perhaps it was foolish of him to go back to such a dangerous place. But when had Jongin’s curiosity ever bent and gave way to reason? After all, it had once lead him all that time ago to this very house. Before, he would have said that was a good thing. Now, he wasn’t so sure.

But yet here he was. Back again.

Jongin took a deep breath and walked towards the window this time, hoping he wouldn’t get caught as he bent down to look through the cracks that the shredded curtain failed to cover.

And sure enough, Jongin watched as the house he knew was gone and replaced by grimy walls, the screams of the record, the eerie grins of Jongdae and Sehun as they bent over their victim who was chained to that chair.

Today, they were removing the guest’s fingers one by one. Jongin looked away every time one of them tauntingly clipped off a whole finger, but he could not stop himself from hearing those blood-chilling screams. Between the screams though, Jongdae and Sehun were talking normally as if they were sitting down for dinner and not actually in the middle of fucking _killing_ someone.

“I wonder where Jongin is. Do you think he’s okay?” Jongdae asked Sehun as he bent down to coldly slit the throat of today’s guest.

“Maybe it’s finals week. You never know…He could be busy,” Sehun said as he watched their guest bleed out. Jongin was forever glad that their guest didn’t face him, as just seeing the blood drip down the floor was enough to make him sick.

“But He didn’t tell us. I thought he would have told us in advance,” Jongdae said as he stood, bloody hands and all, and watched Sehun pull out that dangerously looking tool again before turning it on and pressing it against their guest’s chest without any hesitation.

“Hopefully he’ll come back tomorrow,” Sehun casually said after he finished sawing into the guest’s chest and forcefully ripped out their heart again.

With that, Jongin had enough and trampled on the mariblues as he fled that house as quickly as possible, the haunting screaming still ringing in his ears even after he made it home.

 

ϟ

 

Jongin did not visit them again during the daytime.

Instead he dragged himself to Yixing’s office and moped in his office sorting through newspapers and munching on carrots Yixing offered him. The news was slow in these newspapers Jongin looked through today.

Ten years ago five cats climbed on top of the tallest tree in the town and had meowed pitifully until some fireman rescued them.

Eleven years ago –

“Did you figure out your problem yet? Do you understand everything yet?” Yixing asked as he checked in on Jongin.

“No. I’m just more confused now if that’s possible,” Jongin sighed, feeling the urge to rip the newspapers apart to relieve his stress. But instead, he simply balled up his fists and tried not to scream. He probably did not want to concern Yixing any more than he already had.

“Perhaps you will find your answers if you keep looking,” Yixing said as he glanced at the neat stack of newspapers Jongin had painstakingly organized.

“Hopefully,” Jongin muttered.

“By the way…did they ever find that one boy in your class? Park Chanyeol? This town is so small, so it’s odd that he could have disappeared that quickly out of nowhere like that,” Yixing asked, his eyes flickering to Jongin’s for a moment before Jongin looked away immediately.

“No, he’s still gone. No one knows what happened to him,” Jongin said, finding that for the first time ever, he had lied to Yixing.

Jongin still was curious about Chanyeol though.

Based on what Jongdae and Sehun seemed capable of and more than willing to do, Jongin had his suspicions. Now it was just his choice to discover whether or not they were true.

He probably owed Chanyeol that much.

And so once again, Jongin made his way to that house with his heart hammering inside of his chest as the moon began to push the sun out of the sky for the day.

Sure enough, Jongdae and Sehun were preoccupied with their guest of the day, already jumping ahead with the breaking of limbs and burning of skin. Therefore, Jongin hoped they wouldn’t notice if he snuck in to investigate.

The front door was locked, so Jongin walked around the outside of the house, searching for any ways of entering. Finally, he saw the open kitchen window and hoisted himself up and over the window ledge and into the kitchen, making sure to land quietly in the rusty sink before lowering himself downwards onto the grimy floor.

As Jongin crept to the kitchen door and saw Jongdae and Sehun so close and committing all these unspeakable things right in front of him, he was suddenly very conscious of the fact that they could turn around right now and see him here. He hoped he wouldn’t be caught right now, so as carefully as possible, he took a timid step forward before the floorboard creaked, causing Jongin to leap back inside the kitchen and hide behind the wall. Luckily, Jongdae and Sehun gave no indication that they heard the noise, as the guest still screamed from whatever they were doing to them.

So again, Jongin peaked his head out, setting his gaze on the hallway straight ahead that the living room lead to. There was no use in prolonging this slow, agonizing progress, so Jongin impulsively decided to just go for it….to just run straight ahead and hope he wouldn’t be seen. And so he timed his run so when the guest let out another chilling scream, Jongin darted forwards quickly and escaped into the darkness of the hallway.

The screaming continued, but after no one came running after him, Jongin supposed he was safe. He had not been seen.

It would be far riskier to walk up the creaky stairs, so Jongin figured he’d be best off searching the first floor first. Nothing was there in Sehun’s office that had turned into some dangerous armory overnight. Nothing was in the laundry room that had blood spinning through the washer instead of water. Nothing was here except blood, dusty cobwebs, and sharp weapons. Chanyeol was not here.

But then Jongin reached the basement.

He stood in front of the door….a scratched up door that opened up to reveal darkness. Jongin didn’t know what he was expecting, but once he turned on the light, it was just…a regular basement. As normal as a basement in this house could be at least…Skeletons that Jongin had half-heartedly hoped were fake rested in the sidelines of the basement, but other than that, there wasn’t anything as disturbing as what he had seen in the living room.

But then he looked up.

And saw a decapitated head hanging from the ceiling.

And there was no question about it when Jongin looked at its pointy ears and perpetually messy hair.

It was Chanyeol.

Jongin couldn’t stop himself from looking, and he horrifically gawked with his jaw open as he watched Chanyeol’s gaunt, slowly decomposing head hang from the ceiling like some grotesquely twisted, fleshy disco ball. Except there was nothing fun about the way maggots were crawling in the open wounds on Chanyeol’s face, the way a bit of Chanyeol’s severed vertebrae cleanly poked out of the decomposing flesh, and the way the foul stench made Jongin feel like retching. And Jongin most definitely did not want to dance under Chanyeol’s head as it lightly swung in the air.

But suddenly Chanyeol’s eyes flew open, and Jongin couldn’t help but let out a scream as Chanyeol looked at him with hollow eyes.

“If I had said yes to you the first time you asked, would I still be alive? Is it such a crime to not like someone?” Chanyeol’s head asked, mournfully looking at Jongin.

Jongin couldn’t even hear the rest of what Chanyeol was saying because he was running…running out of the basement, up the stairs, running…running…running as his mind was racing and his heart was beating so fast Jongin was sure it would erupt out of his chest.

Chanyeol was dead.

His head was hanging in Jongdae’s and Sehun’s basement.

Chanyeol was dead.

Jongdae and Sehun killed him.

Chanyeol was _murdered_.

Jongin’s mind was on overload, attempting to process all of this terrifyingly overwhelming information until he collided with a vase in the hallway and almost sent it toppling to the floor. Swearing, Jongin dove to caught it, but in doing so, he fell to his knees with a thud.

A thud that was loud enough to be noticed by Sehun and Jongdae who were just in the living room next to the hallway.

 _Fuck_.

Jongin hoped that Jongdae and Sehun were too busy torturing and murdering to notice, but just to his luck, they fucking noticed.

“What was that?” Sehun’s voice echoed above the screams.

“Did you hear that, too?” Jongdae asked.

Jongin held his breath, frantically pressing his hands over his mouth as he fought to stop himself from making any more noise.

“Should I go check it out?” Sehun asked, and Jongin felt like his heart was going to plummet as he heard footsteps making their way towards him.

“What do you think it is?” Sehun’s voice was sounding nearer and nearer and nearer. It was easier to hide in the dark than it was to hide in the morning pastel colors, but still. Jongin was out exposed in the hallway, and if Sehun were to walk here, he’d spot Jongin instantly.

“What if it’s another guest?” Sehun asked, and from how clearly and how loudly Jongin could hear him, Jongin guessed that Sehun was standing literally on the edge of the doorway and about to turn in and see Jongin standing there frozen and frightened.

Jongin wondered what could his excuse possibly be once he was caught.

_Sorry, I was just taking a nap and I woke up to your surprise Halloween party! I’ll just get going now!_

_Sorry, I think I’m blind? I don’t think I can see anything? Help me out please? Maybe it’s temporary blindness that’s only activated when something illegal happens so don’t worry haha I won’t tell the cops!_

_Sorry, I somehow found myself here and wow are you trying to summon satan or something? Don’t mind me…please go on! I’m a Satanist ally don’t worry your secret is safe with me._

Jongin was sure none of those excuses would work at all, and he just prayed that when he got caught, he would just be….alive after this. He could survive this. He would survive them.

“If it’s trouble, let them come. It’s not like it’d be hard to take another one down,” Jongdae said, “And besides…today it’s your turn to use the knife.”

Jongin shivered unpleasantly as he thought of what Jongdae implied, but he wasn’t complaining as he heard Sehun walk back to the living room in relief. He waited until the screaming resumed and crept forwards. From the edge of the doorway, Jongin peeked as he watched Jongdae and Sehun at work.

But this time, Jongdae and Sehun had their backs towards him. And this time, their bloody, beaten guest faced Jongin.

And Jongin was sure he’d never be able to completely erase that image of those bulging eyes, that bloody body, those severed limbs, and that slit throat ever from his mind again.

He was just lucky that he wasn’t there to witness the guest’s heart being ripped out of their body.

Jongin held his breath as he edged sideways, hugging the walls and ducking behind the tank of blood, praying that Jongdae and Sehun would not notice him.

Luckily, they were preoccupied with their murderous activities, so as soon as Jongin reached the front hallway, he quietly opened the door, slipped through, and ran as fast as he could, not stopping until he collapsed on his yard and threw up over the dewy grass.

“Jongin? Is that you? Why are you back so late again?” His mother asked, curious to where her son had gone.

“I’m tired. I want to go _home_ ,” Jongin managed to say as he finished retching.

“You are home, sweetie. There’s dinner on the table when you’re ready,” his mother answered.

But she didn’t bother to make sure that Jongin had made it inside, as he spent the next hour sitting on the grass sobbing and screaming as his hands clawed at the grass and ripped whatever he could touch apart.

 

ϟ

 

“I don’t think Chanyeol’s coming back,” Jongin said the next day when he sat sprawled on the floor of Yixing’s office eating carrot sticks and organizing newspapers. He thought he sounded and looked pretty put together for a person who witnessed multiple murders and saw the head of his classmate hanging from the house of people he trusted.

“What do you mean?” Yixing asked, looking up from his computer.

“I mean…If he hasn’t turned up soon, then maybe he left town,” Jongin said, lying again.

“Or maybe something bad happened to him. There are a lot of bears in the area and other wild animals after all,” Yixing said.

“I don’t know. It’s a gut feeling,” Jongin said, wondering where the rest of Chanyeol’s body was since…he only saw Chanyeol’s head.

A head that _talked_.

“Well. Hopefully he’s alright. His parents have been going to church every day to pray for his safe return. Didn’t you hear?” Yixing said, turning back to his computer.

Jongin felt guilty…but he was already feeling too much, thinking too much, so he ignored his emotions as he tried to plunge himself in his work. Today, he was trying to get through a large pile of newspapers Yixing had just tossed in a big box and shoved in a corner. Some papers had freshly black ink on them, and others were graying and fading with age.

It was interesting how so many things happened and were forgotten until times like this…times where people like Jongin would dig up records and read about what had happened. It was funny how things could go so easily forgotten if they weren’t recorded.

Like this one account Jongin found.

Thirteen years ago, some high school student was the first in the town’s history to receive a full scholarship to the most prestigious university in the nation. Who would even remember or even realize something like that happened if some journalist didn’t think it was exciting enough to make the news?

And like this other headline Jongin found.

Fourteen years ago, some dog had escaped from the pound, and it had taken ten people ten days to catch him. Who the fuck cared that the dog escaped? Dogs should be allowed to run wherever they wanted.

And fifteen years ago what happened in the newspaper Jongin picked up had him reeling in horror again, and immediately, he dropped the newspaper as quickly as he could as if it had burned him. And Jongin didn’t know what to scream at or cry at first. The picture or the headlines.

Under the headlines, a picture of none other than Jongdae and Sehun themselves smiling together looking exactly like they did this year was blown up and printed on half the page.

And as for the headline?

LOCAL COUPLE FOUND MURDERED IN THEIR HOME

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

Jongin didn’t understand.

There, in black and white, a picture of Jongdae and Sehun was printed on the first half of the page under the bold, blaring headlines.

But that was impossible.

This newspaper was from fifteen years ago, and yet they looked the same now.

Jongin kept staring at the newspaper, hoping that if he stared long enough, it would all make sense. But the more he stared, the more he felt like his heart had stopped and like his breath had choked in his throat.

Because what did this newspaper mean by _murdered_?

He had spent so much time with them, helping Jongdae bake, listening to Sehun talk, dancing with them…living his late afternoons and early evenings with them.

This was impossible.

_They were alive._

He hugged them.

_They were alive._

He cared for them.

_They were alive._

They couldn’t be dead.

This was too much. Jongin had dragged himself through life after witnessing those drastic changes the house went through, witnessing those serial murders, those twisted grins, all that blood and brutality. But this…this was it. Jongin didn’t understand anymore. He never understood, and now he never would.

Jongin _felt_ how warm Jongdae’s hands were, how comforting Sehun’s arms felt around his shoulder.

This was _impossible_.

“That’s an interesting article you found from so long ago,” Yixing suddenly interrupted Jongin’s mental turmoil. He had been observing Jongin’s silent, panicked expressions, looked at what article he had picked up, and realized.

“Yixing, what’s wrong with me?” Jongin shakily asked.

“Nothing at all,” Yixing shook his head.

“No, explain to me…What the _fuck_ is wrong with me? Why is it only me who’s seeing and experiencing these things?” Jongin said, slamming his fist down on the floor. Yixing studied him for a moment, noticed his panicked frustration, and sighed.

“There are many things that we cannot fathom or hope to understand,” Yixing began to say, “There are some things that just _are_ …that refuse to bend to what we know as acceptably true. Perhaps what you experienced is a phenomenon like that.”

“That’s fucking _ridiculous_ , and I’m sick of this. I want to understand why I’ve been visiting fucking _dead_ people…why I’ve watched them kill other people…why everything I’ve known and people I’ve cared about are all lies,” Jongin yelled. He was sick of this…he was _sick_ of running away from the things he could not comprehend, and if no one was giving him answers, then he’d seize them for himself.

Fuck the unknown.

Jongin was going to understand it whether he liked the truth or not.

Yixing seemed taken aback at Jongin’s outburst and fell silent.

“And what the fuck is wrong with my glasses? I know you did something to them. It’s funny how you thought you could trick me, you know? I know what I’ve been seeing through them at that house. I don’t know why I’ve been seeing them or what about these glasses makes me see those things, but I know it was your fucking glasses that triggered the night to reveal the day early…whatever the fuck that means,” Jongin ranted, letting his chest heave with such overwhelming emotion as he expelled all the confusion, the frustration, the betrayal he felt.

Yixing continued to calmly stare at Jongin’s outburst before he decided to answer…giving some shady answer under his breath about night vision lens. _Whatever_.

“Jongin, you have to know,” Yixing continued, “I only did it to scare you enough so you’d leave them. They’re not safe.”

“So you know exactly what I’m talking about? Who I’m talking about?” Jongin said, feeling relieved that this was real for someone else, too.

“Of course. They were the only ones that lived in such a remote house away from town. They wanted to move closer, but they never got the chance. Clearly,” Yixing said.

“Did you know them? Did you know Jongdae and Sehun,” Jongin said, and exhaled as he said their names finally.

Jongdae.

Sehun.

Oh, God. What had happened to them? What was happening to them?

“They were some of my best friends,” Yixing said, a ghost of a smile flitting through his face.

“Did you ever visit them then? Like I did? After they died,” Jongin asked.

“Answer me,” Jongin snarled after Yixing hesitated. He was getting his answers _now_.

“Once,” Yixing admitted, “Once after their murders, I missed them so much that I wandered to their house, but when I opened the door to find them…existing…and killing someone? Like you, I didn’t understand. But unlike you, I didn’t make the same mistake of staying and sticking around with murderers,” Yixing said.

“They’re always attacked first,” Jongin said.

“Are you defending them?” Yixing asked, “Even now, after what you’ve seen them do?”

“I’m just saying what I saw,” Jongin snapped, “It doesn’t make their murders right, but it’s not their fault that their guests fucking assault them in their own homes.”

“I never saw that,” Yixing admitted, “I only saw them when they were in the process of torturing. Killing.”

Jongin paused, and then spoke up to clarify another thing.

“They’re dead, right? Even though all of this happened, they’re still dead. Right?” Jongin asked.

“Oh, absolutely. I went to their funerals myself…Like I said, there are things we can’t ever hope to understand,” Yixing patiently said, never once raising his voice even though Jongin was here blowing up and finally letting his emotions take control of his mouth and his actions.

“One more thing,” Jongin began to say, “Why did they do all of that?”

“You still don’t know?” Yixing raised his eyebrows, “For someone who seems to know so much, you still don’t know?”

Jongin didn’t know what to say to that, so he fell silent…triumphantly and devastatingly silent as he reveled in the fact that his mind was perfectly fine. Everything was real. Everything he had seen, touched, felt was real.

“Stay away from them, though. I promised your parents I’d look after you whenever I could. So stay away. You’ve seen what they can do, and you don’t want to be their next victim,” Yixing said, his voice becoming stern even though his expression stayed composed.

Jongin was torn. A small part of him somehow felt that Jongdae and Sehun would still not hurt him like they had hurt their guests.

"Don’t go back, Jongin. Stay away,” Yixing warned one last time.

 

ϟ

 

Jongin went.

He fucking went and stormed straight out of Yixing’s office with his fists clenched and his shoulders tense as he continued his furious march towards Jongdae’s and Sehun’s house.

In all honesty, Jongin didn’t really know what he was going to do when he reached there and what would happen after he confronted them with the truth. But Jongin had enough, and today he was finally getting all the answers he wanted.

Taking a deep breath, Jongin squared up his shoulders, and before his confidence wavered, he pounded on the front door.

And the door opened, revealing an overjoyed Jongdae who immediately flew into Jongin’s arms with a grin while the sweet jazz music welcomed him.

“Jongin! You’re back! Oh, we were so worried…We thought something bad happened to you,” Jongdae smiled warmly, tilting his head up at Jongin to look at him fondly.

Although Jongin instinctively wanted to snuggle into Jongdae’s warmth and embrace, he didn’t want to let those hands touch him because he knew what they’ve done, what blood they’ve been covered with.

But when Sehun peeked around the corner curiously before running immediately to throw his arms around the both of them and whispering how much they’d missed Jongin and how much they worried, Jongin gave in and melted into their embrace. And even though he felt devastated, those conflicting emotions of confusion and fear gave way to affection, which gave way to something beautifully inexplicable.

It wasn’t fair.

It wasn’t fair that Jongin had come to care for Jongdae and Sehun so much because he’d seen the versions of Jongdae and Sehun that the night revealed, and so this…this sweet version of them couldn’t be true.

“Where have you been, Jongin? Sit, sit,” Jongdae said as he lead Jongin to the couch.

“Tell us everything that’s been happening with you…Don’t leave out a single detail,” Sehun said, pushing his clear glasses further up his face as he trailed behind Jongdae.

And Jongin really did feel tears leap up to his eyes because he saw in between the soft marigold walls, in the midst of the warm, sweet ambience from the heat of the oven, in those concerned, loving gazes of Jongdae and Sehun…the image of a perfect home.

Attentive, affectionate parents.

Everything he had ever wanted.

But there were only a few lingering moments before sundown, so Jongin knew it could not be.

“Jongdae. Sehun,” Jongin began to say, glad his voice did not waver just yet.

“Yes?” they simultaneously responded.

Jongin took in this moment…this image of them looking as normal as possible, their gazes remaining hopeful, their smiles beaming patiently and caringly…before he shattered it himself.

“You’re dead. Aren’t you?” Jongin said. Vaguely, he could feel tears blurring his eyes once again.

And they both looked stunned, as if Jongin daring to say such a statement out loud shocked them.

Jongdae and Sehun looked at each other for a mere moment that seemed almost like an eternity, and Sehun sighed as he took Jongdae’s hand before speaking.

“How did you know? How did you find out?” Sehun asked while Jongdae’s head drooped, his smile faltering before falling from his face.

“I found a newspaper article. Yixing’s. From fifteen years ago,” Jongin said, and finally his voice gave in to the overwhelming emotions and finally wavered.

Jongdae’s eyes widened at the revelation, and for once, he could not bring himself to speak.

“I see,” Sehun managed to answer for the both of them.

“Yeah,” Jongin said, not knowing what else he could say.

“Well. I’m sorry you had to find out that way,” Sehun regretfully said, his glasses appearing clearer and clearer…almost invisible. Now Jongin knew it was because sundown was soon and his real self would be revealed.

“Jongdae…Sehun…What is the truth?” Jongin began to say, “I want to believe that you are good…that I’ve grown to love good, warm people.”

If possible, the two men…the two dead men…looked even more devastated when Jongin said that word.

Love.

“But these glasses that Yixing gave me…showed me when I first wore them in your house before sundown that this is all fake,” Jongin said as he pulled out his glasses.

“Fuck Yixing,” Sehun swore.

“Yeah,” Jongin said, “He lied to me, gave me these glasses, but he did it so I’d stay away from here. Too bad I didn’t listen.”

Sehun didn’t say anything after that, and Jongdae continued to grasp Sehun’s hand tightly as he looked at the ground, unable to meet Jongin’s gaze.

“Instead of music, there’s only screaming. Instead of flowers, there’s blood. What is the truth then? Which version of this house…which versions of you are real?” Jongin continued even though it was hard…so hard for him to keep prying and asking and demanding.

“The day’s sun masks what the night reveals,” Sehun somberly replied.

“So this is it then? So what I’ve seen you do during the nighttime –” Jongin began to say before Sehun cut him off with a dry chuckle.

“I knew someone was in our house that one night. I just didn’t expect it to be you,” Sehun shook his head dejectedly, “I’m sorry you had to see all of that.”

“So what I’ve seen you do during the nighttime? Kill all those people? Your _guests_? That’s the truth then? That’s what you are?” Jongin said, feeling emptier when he said it himself.

Jongdae finally snapped his head up as he heard Jongin’s words.

“Put those glasses on, Jongin,” Jongdae commanded.

“No thanks,” Jongin refused, “I’d rather be sitting here looking at the easy, pretty lie. I don’t want to see monsters in front of me when I put them on.”

Sehun looked almost hurt at being called a monster, but what could Jongin do? They were murderers after all, so he wasn’t that far off from the truth. But Jongdae looked undeterred, sitting up straighter as he looked at Jongin intensely.

“Put them on,” Jongdae firmly said.

Jongin hesitated, but the fierce edge of Jongdae’s tone and the blazing way he gazed at him made him comply. So blinking, he looked at Jongdae and Sehun with their oversized sweaters and normal appearances one last time, memorizing their concerned faces and how everything should have been before he put them on.

So even though it was not yet sundown, the house turned dark. The familiar sound of blood dripping down the cracked, peeling walls greeted Jongin as familiarly as the sound of the screeching record did.

And then there were Jongdae and Sehun.

But while their clothes were darker, their appearances wilder, they looked at him the same way they had looked at him before he put on those glasses.

“Look at me,” Jongdae said, reaching out a hand slowly as if he was afraid Jongin would reject him again.

“Look at us,” Jongdae said again, grasping Jongin’s hand as Jongin slowly looked up at them.

Jongin held his breath as he looked at the blood spilling out from the collar of Jongdae’s dark dress shirt and the bottom hem of Sehun’s suit. And while their appearances changed, as their hair once again became more unkempt and wild, everything…was the _same_? Familiar? Jongdae’s gaze remained soft, his eyebrows remained affectionately tilted up…and that dreamy, peaceful look was still there in Sehun’s eyes.

“We’re the same,” Jongdae said, never once looking away from Jongin.

“We can’t help our situation…And we do what we have to do,” Jongdae said, “But you have to please believe us when I say we are the same. Everything changes when the sun comes down, but our hearts are still the same. We are the same. And the love we have for you is the same.”

Love?

They loved him, too?

And in that moment, Jongin finally let those tears he tried to contain run down his cheeks as his shoulders shook, overwhelmed by everything he had learned and seen. If only Jongin could understand why he, of all people, had to love and be loved by people who were dead, who were murderers, who should have faded from existence long ago.

“What are you doing here if you’re dead,” Jongin tried to stop crying, but he couldn’t, so he kept spilling out his questions in between heaving shoulders and tears, “Shouldn’t you be resting? Resting in peace or whatever the fuck dead people do? Who are your guests? Why do you kill them?”

Jongdae subsequently burst into tears and leapt forward to take Jongin into his arms like any loving parent would. And Jongin found himself thinking that if these people were dead, then he no longer feared the cold grave because Jongdae…dead Jongdae…felt so warm he might as well have been hugging the sun.

“Our guests,” Sehun began to say as he watched them sadly, “are reapers sent to come take us back to who knows where…But we can’t go. We can’t go yet, so we kill them when the night falls and everything supernatural comes to life before they can take us back.”

“Sehun,” Jongin said, finding himself reaching out with his free hand to Sehun, who slowly moved to gently take it.

“Why are you still here? Why can’t you go with them peacefully?” Jongin hiccupped.

Reapers.

Jongdae and Sehun had been killing reapers every day for fifteen years to stay in this earthly world.

But why?

“Why are you still here? Why can’t you go with them peacefully? No wonder they all look pissed when they wait around your house before the night falls,” Jongin asked.

“If you know we’re dead, then you know why,” Sehun said, his voice low and thick with emotion.

“You were murdered,” Jongin replied, and the fact that he was currently talking to and hugging dead people hit him again.

Jongdae hummed in response.

“Did it…hurt?” Jongin blurted out even though he knew that was a stupid question.

“Yes. Of course. How could it not?” Sehun laughed.

Jongdae joined in and filled the dark room with echoes of his bright laughter, and his laughter was so pure and contagious that Jongin found himself laughing, too, despite the dark subject matter…despite the fact that they were laughing at death itself.

If only life could have been like this.

If only Jongdae and Sehun could have lived.

If only –

“Are you going to cooperate today?” a voice sinisterly asked.

But it wasn’t.

“Shut the _fuck_ up…We’ll deal with you soon,” Sehun shouted out, causing Jongin to look around until his eyes locked upon the dark figure in the room.

The guest.

The reaper.

“Come back tomorrow, Jongin. We’ll explain everything after it’s safe. You need to go before the reaper tries to take you, too,” Jongdae said as he and Sehun stood up and away from Jongin. Suddenly it was cold…colder than it had ever been, and Jongin was shivering as they guided him away from the living room towards the front hallway.

“I’m…But what about you?” Jongin asked as he was pushed towards the door.

“You’ve seen what we can do…what we’ve done. We’ll be fine,” Sehun said as he urgently opened the front door, only to be met face to face with another reaper who shoved them inside with a snarl as he slammed the door.

“I think today might finally be the day,” Sehun quietly said to Jongdae.

“I suppose it’s time then? We’ve been waiting so long…for fifteen years,” Jongdae replied.

 _For what?_ Jongin wanted to ask before a reaper silently glared at him and raised a finger to point at him. Jongdae blinked as he stared, watching the silent interaction before he raised his voice to argue.

“Let him go. He’s still alive. He’s done nothing wrong, and it’s not his time to go,” Jongdae pleaded, stepping in front of Jongin to shield him from the reaper.

“Now, we’re thinking…if you two won’t come with us, maybe we can just take him and then you’ll follow,” the reaper said as he stepped inside the house.

And suddenly the sun had finished setting, disappearing completely for the day, and suddenly everything was changing before his eyes. But this time, five reapers appeared seemingly out of nowhere to surround them. And suddenly the house had transformed back into that dark, bloody lair. Even without the glasses, Jongdae and Sehun looked dangerous, wild, murderous.

But Jongin was no longer afraid.

“Jongdae? Sehun? I thought you only had one reaper a day?” Jongin asked.

“Shh…You’re with us. We’ll protect you. You’ll be fine. We won’t let it happen again,” Jongdae said as Sehun stepped closer to Jongin, the two of them shielding Jongin from the reapers.

To be honest, Jongin may have been surrounded by two murderers, but he was more absolutely terrified of the reapers that stood around them. Not one of them had scythes like Jongin was used to reading about, but their gaunt faces and cruel expressions were horrifying. And when they lurched forward and closed in on them, Jongin could vaguely hear himself screaming…his terrified screams blending in with the screams of the record player.

But Jongin was still confused. He knew Jongdae and Sehun were murderers…and whether or not the reapers were actually human or not, he didn’t know. But he knew that they killed countless numbers of them and Chanyeol, too, so while he was timidly helping them fight off the reapers, he wondered why he still felt so much concern for their safety even now. The heart chose whoever it wanted to love. And of course Jongin got stuck with murderers to love. And no matter how much he knew how wrong what they’d done was, the only thing he could focus on was pushing a reaper that was trying to strangle Jongdae over.

That seemed to have caught the reaper’s attention, as quickly he turned and lunged towards Jongin instead and wrapped his fingers around his throat.

“Hey, it’s us you want. Leave him alone,” Jongdae snarled as he jumped onto the reaper’s neck and pulled him off until Jongin lay gasping for air on the floor.

Coughing, he watched the two of them fight, and soon he watched in wordless horror as the reapers overpowered Jongdae and Sehun and held them all down before strangling them. So gasping for breath, Jongin didn’t think but simply ran into the kitchen to retrieve a knife.

And Jongin still didn’t think, but just acted as he screamed for them to _stop_ as he plunged the kitchen knife he retrieved as far as he could into the reaper’s back…again and again and again…until the reaper slumped over.

“I…I killed him?” Jongin said, blinking as he felt blood on his face that splattered upon him from the stabbing. Oh God…He was a murderer now?

“It doesn’t count, Jongin. He’s a reaper. He’s already dead,” Jongdae shook his head before immediately engaging another reaper.

“If that kills them, then why do you need to rip out their heart,” Jongin numbly said. He had so easily stabbed that person not once, but so many times…all because Jongdae was suffering. But he sighed in relief after the reaper twitched and picked himself off of the floor to throw himself at them.

And it was Sehun who answered this time as he grabbed the knife that Jongin limply held in order to stab that reaper and end him for good.

“Because we had our hearts ripped out the day of our murder,” Sehun said.

“Metaphorically,” Jongdae added after watching Jongin’s shocked expression.

“I don’t understand,” Jongin mumbled again. He didn’t say anything else, didn’t ask this time about what they meant, but he stood there…stood there and watched as Jongdae and Sehun killed another reaper…and another one…all while yelling that they couldn’t touch Jongin, they couldn’t have him, they couldn’t and would not take him, too.

Jongin realized this now. There were certain things in the world that people would do anything for, would not hesitate to burn the world for, would not hesitate to rip apart the starry heavens for.

So the question to ask now was not why.

But who.

After all, there was only one person Jongdae and Sehun would die for, would kill for other than each other. And perhaps it was the wrong time to talk about such things, as they were still busy fighting those two remaining reapers. But in between dodging blows and landing some of their own, Jongin asked. And Jongdae and Sehun explained what the newspaper neglected to mention.

“Our baby. Our son,” Sehun hoarsely said.

Of course.

Who else could it have been?

“Did you know he was an early walker? He picked himself right up when he was around seven months and ran towards us,” Jongdae said as he stabbed a reaper twice and coldly watched him slump towards the floor.

“Did…did you save your son then? Before you died?” Jongin asked.

Did the same people who killed Jongdae and Sehun kill their son, too?

Jongdae stopped fighting and blinked before staring at Jongin wordlessly. The corners of his mouth twitched downwards, pulling his lips into a deep scowl. And he didn’t say anything until he let the devastating emotions take control as he spoke.

“Do you think we had the _chance_?” Jongdae snarled as he ripped down the collar of his shirt to reveal his slit throat. Blood slowly trickled out of the deep gash, and even though Jongin had already knew that Jongdae had been murdered, he could not prepare himself for the ghastly sight of the fatal wound that had killed Jongdae.

“Do you really _think_ we would have let people get through us to do who fucking knows what with our son? So easily?” Jongdae frustratedly said as he strode over to Sehun. Jongin wondered if Jongdae had tried to weakly stand towards his murderers with trembling arms and blurring vision before he watched his murderer slaughter his son before falling to the floor gasping for breaths that could not come.

“If we didn’t _die_ so easily, don’t you think we would’ve killed them right back for getting to our son?” Jongdae said as he angrily ripped apart Sehun’s buttoned suit and lifted up his dress shirt to reveal multiple stab wounds upon his chest. At least ten. It had taken at least ten stab wounds to kill Sehun. As Jongin stared at the deep, bloody wounds that tore up Sehun’s chest, Jongin wondered if Sehun was torn between defending himself, defending his son, or pressing his hand over Jongdae’s throat to stop the bleeding, to stop him from dying.

“For taking him away from us?” Jongdae finished, his eyes blazing as his fingers gripped the fabric of Sehun’s shirt. Jongin watched as Jongdae finally looked away from him so he could gaze at Sehun instead. And even now, he was overwhelmed by their deep affection they had for each other. Briefly, he wondered if they had died together, crying as they lay crumpled together, drenched in their blood, watching as their murderers advanced on their son who cried for parents who could not get up, who could not save him…watching as they were about to leave each other, too.

“Do you know where he is now?” Jongin asked.

Where he was buried?

Where he might be lingering if he could exist in a form like Jongdae and Sehun existed in?

“Jongin, don’t you think we would’ve left to find him if we could?” Sehun said more gently, “Nothing can leave this house.”

And suddenly the pie Jongdae had so carefully placed in Jongin’s bag that went missing as soon as he came home all that time ago made sense.

“Well, why didn’t you tell me this before?” A reaper, the last reaper, choked out as he slowly dragged himself up off the kitchen floor, “You can’t leave this house right?”

“So if I destroy this house, you won’t be able to escape us, right?” he said, turning on the rusty, dented oven as little blue flames danced in the darkness.

“Well. But at least we could finally leave this place,” Sehun shrugged, unfazed by the fire.

“Stop,” Jongin said, moving towards the reaper, moving towards the oven to turn it off. But in response, the reaper only turned on the rest of the flames.

“I said, _stop_. Leave them alone,” Jongin gesticulated angrily.

“Oops,” the reaper said as he stripped off his dark shrouds to light on fire before dropping it to the floor. Within mere moments, the fire had slowly grown and spread across the creaky hardwood floor.

The smell of burning wood began to spread throughout the room, so unlike the sweet vanilla scent of the pies in the morning. And Jongin was panicking, moving forwards to stamp out the growing flames, only to be pushed to the floor by the reaper who stood, guarding the flames in the background.

Sehun helped Jongin up, but the two of them stood, wordlessly staring at the flames in silence. Their house was on fire, but they didn’t move to stop it, and they didn’t look that concerned.

“Darling, today is the day,” Sehun said.

“I think so. Are you ready?” Jongdae said.

“We’ve only been waiting for what…fifteen years to leave this house?” Sehun chuckled, “I guess it’s time to be set free after this thing burns down.”

“Jongin, you should go before it’s too late for you,” Jongdae sadly said, beginning to push Jongin out of the kitchen as flames danced across the room before slowly creeping to the living room.

“No, no, no…You can’t! There’s still time! We can put out the flames…Here, I’ll go grab some water from the hose from the yard,” Jongin said, moving to dash out of the house before being stopped by Jongdae and Sehun.

“It’s okay. It’s time for us to leave this house anyways. We’ve stayed here long enough,” Jongdae said, putting a hand on Jongin’s shoulder, “We should go.”

“I guess this really is it, Jongdae,” Sehun said as he ushered Jongin into the living room.

“This is it, Sehun,” Jongdae said, stopping to place a kiss on Sehun’s lips. The two of them stood, embracing each other for a moment as the fire rushed towards them. The reaper, the remaining reaper stood screaming in the kitchen as the flames consumed him.

“But I don’t _want_ you to leave,” Jongin yelled, stunning himself, stunning everyone into a silence punctuated by the crackling flames and the perpetual screaming.

“Oh, Jongin,” Jongdae’s gaze softened from his determined gaze into this pained one.

“You have to go. You have to live for us,” Sehun said, and like those other times he had visited, ushered him towards the door.

“I can’t leave you like this. I don’t _want_ to leave you like this,” Jongin said, feeling his feet drag across the hallway as Sehun gently not so gently pushed him towards the door, towards safety, towards life.

“You _have_ to,” Sehun shook his head, “You can’t stay here and die with us. We won’t allow it.” Quickly before Jongin could protest, Sehun opened the front door and gently pushed Jongin onto the doorstep.

“Sehun, what do you think it’s like to die a second time?” Jongdae said, suddenly turning and trembling as he looked back at the growing fire, “If this can be considered death? If this is dying again?”

Sehun let go of Jongin to take Jongdae’s hand.

“I don’t know, but at least we’ll be able to leave this place. Where do you think our son is now? How big do you think he’s grown by now? Let’s go find him immediately,” Sehun said.

“Of course…of _course_ ,” Jongdae smiled.

Wait.

_Wait._

“I thought your son was dead…I thought he was murdered alongside you?” Jongin said.

“No…he’s alive somewhere. Not dead. We know it. That’s why we’re still here, you know? And one day we’ll find him,” Sehun said.

“Don’t you know?” Jongdae said, “The people who killed us ran off with our son. How could we rest knowing our son lives with our murderers? How could we move on without him?”

“I’ll…I’ll find him for you! Just come with me,” Jongin said, trying to step inside the house, but finding himself blocked by Sehun. Panic and hysteria began to set in, and Jongin peered into the house, astonished to find the flames so close to them now.

“You know we can’t,” Jongdae shook his head, “Not until this house is finally destroyed…burnt to the ground.”

“What about _me_?” Jongin screamed, crying as he pointed at himself, “I can’t just watch two people I love disappear from me so quickly. It’s not fair, it’s not _fair_.”

“There are some things you have to do for the people you love. Some things no human, no spirit, no concept like death can stop. So when we find our son, we’ll come back to him always. Now go. And one day we’ll find you again, too,” Jongdae said, tenderly placing his hand over Jongin’s cheek. Jongin’s vision was blurring from the tears and the smoke, but he could hear just fine…hear Jongdae and Sehun whisper those sentimental affections…those sweet affirmations as the fire burned around them.

“Live well, Jongin.”

Without anything further to say, they pushed Jongin to safety, and he tumbled down the stairs, away from the house, the burning house.

And the last thing Jongin saw before the door slammed shut were the last traces of two smiles, clasped arms, and such overwhelming love.

Quickly crawling away from the house, Jongin watched in the field among a cluster of mariblues as the house burned down. He openly wept…hoping that the screams he heard from within came from that rusty record player and not Jongdae and Sehun.

Jongin was used to running…running away when he didn’t want to see things that distressed him anymore. But this time he stayed. He stayed until the house had burnt down completely and until there was nothing left but damp tears on his cheeks and ashes in a field of mariblues to remember them by.

But as the wind blew and scattered the ashes around, the remnants of the fire dusted the mariblues and before Jongin’s eyes, they began to turn gold.

There were some things that transcended all possible human comprehension.

The unfairness of life was one of them.

 

ϟ

 

It was not unnatural to mourn the dead.

But, as Jongin soon realized, it was unnatural to mourn those twice dead.

Because what was he supposed to say when Luhan asked him why he looked so distressed at lunch break? What was he supposed to say when his teacher pulled him aside after class to ask him if he was okay? What was he supposed to say when his parents finally strayed away from their previous conversation at dinnertime, the good news that the house beside theirs had finally been bought, to worriedly ask about him?

He couldn’t just say _oh I’m grieving people who died fifteen years ago_. Or even _I lost people who weren’t even alive in the first place._

But he could say those things to Yixing because Yixing knew. Yixing understood. Or at least he understood most.

“Murder is still murder, Jongin,” Yixing said after Jongin had caved and reluctantly biked his way to Yixing’s office.

“They were murdered first,” Jongin said before conceding, “You’re right…But wouldn’t you do anything for your family though?”

Yixing didn’t say anything after that.

Jongin didn’t expect him to agree with them, agree with him, but it was nice…to just sit beside someone who knew that everything he was suffering through was valid and real.

“Did they tell you where their son is now?” Yixing said, breaking the silence, “I haven’t seen that kid in—”

“Fifteen years. I know,” Jongin said, “You knew him.”

“What type of best friends did you take us for, Jongin,” Yixing chuckled, “Of course I knew their son…of course I could pick out that cute smile anywhere.”

“They don’t know, Yixing,” Jongin managed to smile at the thought of some unknown bubbly baby smiling as his parents cooed, “But he’s alive somewhere.”

“Why don’t you find him then? Start looking around…It can’t be that easy to hide a child you kidnapped after you murdered his parents. There should be records,” Yixing said.

And so Jongin began looking for Jongdae’s and Sehun’s missing son.

Yixing helped him start, compiling a list of adoption agencies, fertility clinics, police reports in the nearby area for Jongin to call and look through. So Jongin would find himself sitting around during sleepless nights were he’d wake up to screams and fires looking through the lists of countless names and numbers. Nothing yet. Whenever he’d make phone calls to adoption agencies or medical centers specializing in surrogates, no one was eager to release confidential information…especially about two murdered clients.

But one day Jongin looked at Luhan fondly, smiling as he watched Luhan take out his guitar to play for him.

And suddenly Jongin was seeing those striking features from Sehun’s face ghost over Luhan’s own features…Jongdae’s warm presence in Luhan’s and—

No.

There was no way it’d be this easy, right?

Their son could not have been sitting right here in front of Jongin so easily, right?

But the more Jongin observed Luhan, the more he wanted to believe.

There had to be a reason why Luhan didn’t look anything much like his own parents…why Luhan told him that his birth certificate was lost somewhere when Jongin had casually asked him if he knew what his birth certificate looked like…why Luhan’s parents looked at him suspiciously when Jongin began prying, unable to help his curiosity and his desire to know.

Luhan’s parents couldn’t have been the ones who killed Jongdae and Sehun, couldn’t they?

They looked much too kind, too caring, too sweet for such an act.

But then again.

So had Jongdae and Sehun looked.

 

ϟ

 

After a few weeks of hard work, Jongin had narrowed down the options. It was impossible for Jongin to access confidential medical records no matter how hard he tried or lied, so it was impossible to know if their son had a surrogate mother. There were no records of missing children around that time as well, so it seemed the child had to have been placed into an adoption agency, into foster care, or…was still living with their murderers.

It seemed easier to search adoption records then.

Jongin still suspected Luhan though, and when he finally got a call back from an adoption agency who claimed they had information relating to his inquiries, he was expecting to hear Luhan’s name.

“We’re sorry, we cannot give you access to this information unless the adoptee gives his consent,” the agent instead said.

“Look…I just want to know if I’m adopted. My name is Luhan. If I’m really adopted, then this is my consent, right?” Jongin lied before listing confidential information he had somehow tricked out of Luhan.

The agent sighed into the phone.

“Let me see what I can do. Hold on,” the agent said.

Jongin left the phone on speaker and sat in silence, waiting for the agent to confirm what he suspected. The sound of his mother calling him for dinner interrupted his thoughts, and as his phone still remained silent, he supposed he could go eat.

While eating, his parents now prodded him and asked him questions about anything. It had seemed they were still worried, and as his mother watched him pick at the peas on his plate, she repeated her question.

“Why haven’t you been eating much? What’s wrong, Jongin?” she asked gently. Today her phone was nowhere in sight, and the last time he had heard her talk about her work was hours ago. What a change. Today it was him that had his phone at the table, and he silently watched the seconds tick on his phone screen for a moment before answering.

His parents liked houses.

He could talk about houses.

“There is a house,” Jongin began to say, “There is a house that you said doesn’t exist on the edge of this town. But it does. I’ve been there…But it’s gone now. It’s been burnt down.”

It was true.

There was a house.

There was a house with a field of gently swaying mariblues surrounding it, with soft jazz music gently playing out of a record, with sweet vanilla smells and the heat of the oven escaping into the bright living room during the day.

There was a house that changed during the night with screams echoing out of the scratchy record player, with rancid blood dripping down the dark, peeling walls, with tortured victims screaming before they died, before they had their hearts ripped out of their chests.

But what didn’t change was this.

Them.

There was a house that Jongin visited with two sweet people…two dangerous people…two dead people.

Two people he still missed so much, he still wanted to see again even though it seemed impossible, two people he still l—

“Jongin, sweetie,” his mother said, her lips stretching into a wide smile, “Are you sure?”

“Son, we’ve sold so many houses in this city. Are you sure?” his father asked as he sliced another piece of steak. Jongin couldn’t stomach it, but his father always liked his steak rare.

Son.

Right.

Jongin glanced at the ticking time on his phone, wondering if he should end the call and call back. This was taking so long…

“I’m not hungry anymore,” Jongin sighed, pushing his plate away from him.

“That’s okay…We’ll wrap it up for you and it’ll be in the fridge for you later if you’re hungry, alright?” His mother warmly said.

“Oh that’s right. Our new neighbors moved in today,” his father said, clapping his hands together, “Why don’t you take the pie on the counter over to them?”

“Yes, please welcome them for us, Jongin,” his mother said, pointing to the pie on the countertop.

Jongin nodded obediently and stood up to pick up the pie. It wasn’t anything like the warm pies he had grown accustomed to, as it was cold and store-bought. But it was better than nothing. And Jongin was about halfway to his new neighbor’s house before he realized he forgot his phone.

Damn.

The agent could have responded by now.

Jongin walked back to his house, approaching the side door leading into the kitchen before he felt his pockets and realized he had taken it with him. Ah. Whoops. He pulled it out of his pocket and glanced at the ticking time….still no response…until a voice crackled out of the speakers.

“Hello? Are you there? Sorry for the long wait, but there’s no record of a Luhan here. You’re not adopted, sir,” the agent’s voice crackled out of the speaker.

Oh.

Disappointed, Jongin thanked the agent before slipping the phone into his pocket. And he was about to walk back to his neighbor’s house before he heard his parents talking.

Honestly, it was almost a miracle he didn’t drop the pie then because the things he was hearing…were enough to make his heart feel like it had completely stopped.

“How much do you think he knows?” his mother hissed from the dining table.

“Nothing…He shouldn’t know anything. We were careful. No one knew then, and no one will know now. Especially our son,” his father calmly said, the sound of his knife scratching across his plate clashing with his voice.

“Our son that we gave _away_ ,” his mother frantically said, “If we hadn’t done that in the first place, then all those things wouldn’t have had to _happen_.”

“We were young…First years in college. It was hard enough for you to go through that pregnancy then, so imagine how hard it would’ve been for us if we kept him. It was for the best,” his father said.

Him?

Did they mean him?

“I didn’t _want_ to give him up though,” his mother tearfully replied, “And the amount of trouble we had to go through to get him back from those two men who adopted him.”

“Ah…it’s a shame they refused to give him back,” his father said, “Perhaps we could’ve worked something out. They could’ve visited him whenever they wanted. Why did it have to end like that?”

“They’re _dead_ ,” his mother snapped, “We _killed_ them to take our son back. It’s a miracle the police didn’t realize it was us. But now our son is poking around the same house? What if he knows?”

That was it.

Jongin felt numb, trying to process what he had just overheard, and vaguely he could feel his feet mechanically walk away, walk on the sidewalk, walk towards the house, the pie somehow still miraculously in his grasp.

And though Jongin was already overwhelmed, overwhelmed with the loss that the fire had caused, overwhelmed that it was not Luhan like he had thought, overwhelmed with the crushing truth that his parents had unknowingly told him…when he heard that sound, he finally understood.

There were some things that transcended human comprehension, the possibility of life, the restrictions of death.

And Love?

Love. Was the most devastatingly inexplicable one of them all.

Because when Jongin heard that sound echoing from his new neighbor’s house?

 _That’s_ when the pie tumbled out of his grasp and crashed onto the top doorstep of that house, the spilled cherry filling looking eerily like splattered blood as the sound of that record greeted him.

It was always that same jazz.

 

 


End file.
